The History of the Conquest of Mexico, by William Hickling Prescott

BOOK VI:

Siege and Surrender of Mexico

Chapter I 1521

ARRANGEMENTS AT TEZCUCO— SACK OF IZTAPALAPAN— ADVANTAGES OF THE SPANIARDS— WISE POLICY OF CORTES—
TRANSPORTATION OF THE BRIGANTINES

THE city of Tezcuco was the best position, probably, which Cortes could have chosen for the head-quarters of the
army. It supplied all the accommodation for lodging a numerous body of troops, and all the facilities for subsistence,
incident to a large and populous town. It furnished, moreover, a multitude of artisans and labourers for the uses of
the army. Its territories, bordering on the Tlascalan, afforded a ready means of intercourse with the country of his
allies, while its vicinity to Mexico enabled the general, without much difficulty, to ascertain the movements in that
capital. Its central situation, in short, opened facilities for communication with all parts of the valley, and made it
an excellent Point d’appui for his future operations.

The first care of Cortes was to strengthen himself in the palace assigned to him, and to place his quarters in a
state of defence, which might secure them against surprise, not only from the Mexicans, but from the Tezcucans
themselves. Since the election of their new ruler, a large part of the population had returned to their homes, assured
of protection in person and property. But the Spanish general, notwithstanding their show of submission, very much
distrusted its sincerity; for he knew that many of them were united too intimately with the Aztecs, by marriage and
other social relations, not to have their sympathies engaged in their behalf. The young monarch, however, seemed wholly
in his interest; and, to secure him more effectually, Cortes placed several Spaniards near his person, whose ostensible
province it was to instruct him in their language and religion, but who were in reality to watch over his conduct, and
prevent his correspondence with those who might be unfriendly to the Spanish interests.

Tezcuco stood about half a league from the lake. It would be necessary to open a communication with it, so that the
brigantines, when put together in the capital, might be launched upon its waters. It was proposed, therefore, to dig a
canal, reaching from the gardens of Nezahualcoyotl, as they were called from the old monarch who planned them, to the
edge of the basin. A little stream or rivulet, which flowed in that direction, was to be deepened sufficiently for the
purpose; and eight thousand Indian labourers were forthwith employed on this great work, under the direction of the
young Ixtlilxochitl.

Meanwhile Cortes received messages from several places in the neighbourhood, intimating their desire to become the
vassals of his sovereign, and to be taken under his protection. The Spanish commander required, in return, that they
should deliver up every Mexican who should set foot in their territories. Some noble Aztecs, who had been sent on a
mission to these towns, were consequently delivered into his hands. He availed himself of it to employ them as bearers
of a message to their master, the emperor. In it he deprecated the necessity of the present hostilities. Those who had
most injured him, he said, were no longer among the living. He was willing to forget the past; and invited the
Mexicans, by a timely submission, to save their capital from the horrors of a siege. Cortes had no expectation of
producing any immediate result by this appeal. But he thought it might lie in the minds of the Mexicans, and that, if
there was a party among them disposed to treat with him, it might afford them encouragement, as showing his own
willingness to co-operate with their views. At this time, however, there was no division of opinion in the capital. The
whole population seemed animated by a spirit of resistance, as one man.

In a former page I have mentioned that it was the plan of Cortes, on entering the valley, to commence operations by
reducing the subordinate cities before striking at the capital itself, which, like some goodly tree, whose roots had
been severed one after another, would be thus left without support against the fury of the tempest. The first point of
attack which he selected was the ancient city of Iztapalapan; a place containing fifty thousand inhabitants, according
to his own account, and situated about six leagues distant, on the narrow tongue of land which divides the waters of
the great salt lake from those of the fresh. It was the private domain of the last sovereign of Mexico; where, as the
reader may remember, he entertained the white men the night before their entrance into the capital, and astonished them
by the display of his princely gardens. To this monarch they owed no good will, for he had conducted the operations on
the noche triste. He was, indeed, no more; but the people of his city entered heartily into his hatred of the
strangers, and were now the most loyal vassals of the Mexican crown.

In a week after his arrival at his new quarters, Cortes, leaving the command of the garrison to Sandoval, marched
against this Indian city, at the head of two hundred Spanish foot, eighteen horse, and between three and four thousand
Tlascalans. Within two leagues of their point of destination, they were encountered by a strong Aztec force, drawn up
to dispute their progress. Cortes instantly gave them battle. The barbarians showed their usual courage; but, after
some hard fighting, were compelled to give way before the steady valour of the Spanish infantry, backed by the
desperate fury of the Tlascalans, whom the sight of an Aztec seemed to inflame almost to madness. The enemy retreated
in disorder, closely followed by the Spaniards. When they had arrived within half a league of Iztapalapan, they
observed a number of canoes filled with Indians, who appeared to be labouring on the mole which hemmed in the waters of
the salt lake. Swept along in the tide of pursuit, they gave little heed to it, but, following up the chase, entered
pell-mell with the fugitives into the city.

The houses stood some of them on dry ground, some on piles in the water. The former were deserted by the
inhabitants, most of whom had escaped in canoes across the lake, leaving, in their haste, their effects behind them.
The Tlascalans poured at once into the vacant dwellings and loaded themselves with booty; while the enemy, making the
best of their way through this part of the town, sought shelter in the buildings erected over the water, or among the
reeds which sprung from its shallow bottom. In the houses were many of the citizens also, who still lingered with their
wives and children, unable to find the means of transporting themselves from the scene of danger.

Cortes, supported by his own men, and by such of the allies as could be brought to obey his orders, attacked the
enemy in this last place of their retreat. Both parties fought up to their girdles in the water. A desperate struggle
ensued, as the Aztec fought with the fury of a tiger driven to bay by the huntsmen. It was all in vain. The enemy was
overpowered in every quarter. The citizen shared the fate of the soldier, and a pitiless massacre succeeded, without
regard to sex or age. Cortes endeavoured to stop it. But it would have been as easy to call away the starving wolf from
the carcass he was devouring, as the Tlascalan who had once tasted the blood of an enemy. More than six thousand,
including women and children, according to the Conqueror’s own statement, perished in the conflict.

Darkness meanwhile had set in; but it was dispelled in some measure by the light of the burning houses, which the
troops had set on fire in different parts of the town. Their insulated position, it is true, prevented the flames from
spreading from one building to another, but the solitary masses threw a strong and lurid glare over their own
neighbourhood, which gave additional horror to the scene. As resistance was now at an end, the soldiers abandoned
themselves to pillage, and soon stripped the dwellings of every portable article of any value.

While engaged in this work of devastation, a murmuring sound was heard as of the hoarse rippling of waters, and a
cry soon arose among the Indians that the dikes were broken! Cortes now comprehended the business of the men whom he
had seen in the canoes at work on the mole which fenced in the great basin of Lake Tezcuco. It had been pierced by the
desperate Indians, who thus laid the country under an inundation, by suffering the waters of the salt lake to spread
themselves over the lower level, through the opening. Greatly alarmed, the general called his men together, and made
all haste to evacuate the city. Had they remained three hours longer, he says, not a soul could have escaped. They came
staggering under the weight of booty, wading with difficulty through the water, which was fast gaining upon them. For
some distance their path was illumined by the glare of the burning buildings. But, as the light faded away in distance,
they wandered with uncertain steps, sometimes up to their knees, at others up to their waists, in the water, through
which they floundered on with the greatest difficulty. As they reached the opening in the dike, the stream became
deeper, and flowed out with such a current that the men were unable to maintain their footing. The Spaniards, breasting
the flood, forced their way through; but many of the Indians, unable to swim, were borne down by the waters. All the
plunder was lost. The powder was spoiled; the arms and clothes of the soldiers were saturated with the brine, and the
cold night wind, as it blew over them, benumbed their weary limbs till they could scarcely drag them along. At dawn
they beheld the lake swarming with canoes, full of Indians, who had anticipated their disaster, and who now saluted
them with showers of stones, arrows, and other deadly missiles. Bodies of light troops, hovering in the distance,
disquieted the flanks of the army in like manner. The Spaniards had no desire to close with the enemy. They only wished
to regain their comfortable quarters in Tezcuco, where they arrived on the same day, more disconsolate and fatigued
than after many a long march and hard-fought battle.

The close of the expedition, so different from its brilliant commencement, greatly disappointed Cortes. His
numerical loss had, indeed, not been great; but this affair convinced him how much he had to apprehend from the
resolution of a people, who were prepared to bury their country under water rather than to submit. Still, the enemy had
little cause for congratulation, since, independently of the number of slain, they had seen one of their most
flourishing cities sacked, and in part, at least, laid in ruins — one of those, too, which in its public works
displayed the nearest approach to civilisation. Such are the triumphs of war!

The expedition of Cortes, notwithstanding the disasters which chequered it, was favourable to the Spanish cause. The
fate of Iztapalapan struck a terror throughout the valley. The consequences were soon apparent in the deputations sent
by the different places eager to offer their submission. Its influence was visible, indeed, beyond the mountains. Among
others, the people of Otumba, the town near which the Spaniards had gained their famous victory, sent to tender their
allegiance, and to request the protection of the powerful strangers. They excused themselves, as usual, for the part
they had taken in the late hostilities, by throwing the blame on the Aztecs.

But the place of most importance which thus claimed their protection, was Chalco, situated on the eastern extremity
of the lake of that name. It was an ancient city, people by a kindred tribe of the Aztecs, and once their formidable
rival. The Mexican emperor, distrusting their loyalty, had placed a garrison within their walls to hold them in check.
The rulers of the city now sent a message secretly to Cortes, proposing to put themselves under his protection, if he
would enable them to expel the garrison.

The Spanish commander did not hesitate; but instantly detached a considerable force under Sandoval for this object.
On the march his rear-guard, composed of Tlascalans, was roughly handled by some light troops of the Mexicans. But he
took his revenge in a pitched battle, which took place with the main body of the enemy at no great distance from
Chalco. They were drawn up on a level ground, covered with green crops of maize and maguey. Sandoval, charging the
enemy at the head of his cavalry, threw them into disorder. But they quickly rallied, formed again, and renewed the
battle with greater spirit than ever. In a second attempt he was more fortunate; and, breaking through their lines by a
desperate onset, the brave cavalier succeeded, after a warm but ineffectual struggle on their part, in completely
routing and driving them from the field. The conquering army continued its march to Chalco, which the Mexican garrison
had already evacuated, and was received in triumph by the assembled citizens, who seemed eager to testify their
gratitude for their deliverance from the Aztec yoke. After taking such measures as he could for the permanent security
of the place, Sandoval returned to Tezcuco, accompanied by the two young lords of the city, sons of the late
cacique.

They were courteously received by Cortes; and they informed him that their father had died full of years, a short
time before. With his last breath he had expressed his regret that he should not have lived to see Malinche. He
believed that the white men were the beings predicted by the oracles, as one day to come from the East and take
possession of the land; and he enjoined it on his children, should the strangers return to the valley, to render them
their homage and allegiance. The young caciques expressed their readiness to do so; but, as this must bring on them the
vengeance of the Aztecs, they implored the general to furnish a sufficient force for their protection.

Cortes received a similar application from various other towns, which were disposed, could they do so with safety,
to throw off the Mexican yoke. But he was in no situation to comply with their request. He now felt, more sensibly than
ever, the incompetency of his means to his undertaking. “I assure your Majesty,” he writes in his letter to the
emperor, “the greatest uneasiness which I feel after all my labours and fatigues, is from my inability to succour and
support our Indian friends, your Majesty’s loyal vassals.” Far from having a force competent to this, he had scarcely
enough for his own protection. His vigilant enemy had an eye on all his movements, and, should he cripple his strength
by sending away too many detachments, or by employing them at too great a distance, would be prompt to take advantage
of it. His only expeditions, hitherto, had been in the neighbourhood, where the troops, after striking some sudden and
decisive blow, might speedily regain their quarters. The utmost watchfulness was maintained there, and the Spaniards
lived in as constant preparation for an assault, as if their camp was pitched under the walls of Mexico.

On two occasions the general had sallied forth and engaged the enemy in the environs of Tezcuco. At one time a
thousand canoes, filled with Aztecs, crossed the lake to gather in a large crop of Indian corn nearly ripe, on its
borders. Cortes thought it important to secure this for himself. He accordingly marched out and gave battle to the
enemy, drove them from the field, and swept away the rich harvest to the granaries of Tezcuco. Another time a strong
body of Mexicans had established themselves in some neighbouring towns friendly to their interests. Cortes, again
sallying, dislodged them from their quarters, beat them in several skirmishes, and reduced the places to obedience. But
these enterprises demanded all his resources, and left him nothing to spare for his allies. In this exigency, his
fruitful genius suggested an expedient for supplying the deficiency of his means.

Some of the friendly cities without the valley, observing the numerous beacon-fires on the mountains, inferred that
the Mexicans were mustering in great strength, and that the Spaniards must be hard pressed in their new quarters. They
sent messengers to Tezcuco, expressing their apprehension, and offering reinforcements, which the general, when he set
out on his march, had declined. He returned many thanks for the proffered aid; but, while he declined it for himself,
as unnecessary, he indicated in what manner their services might be effectual for the defence of Chalco and the other
places which had invoked his protection. But his Indian allies were in deadly feud with these places, whose inhabitants
had too often fought under the Aztec banner not to have been engaged in repeated wars with the people beyond the
mountains.

Cortes set himself earnestly to reconcile these differences. He told the hostile parties that they should be willing
to forget their mutual wrongs, since they bad entered into new relations. They were now vassals of the same sovereign,
engaged in a common enterprise against a formidable foe who had so long trodden them in the dust. Singly they could do
little, but united they might protect each other’s weakness, and hold their enemy at bay till the Spaniards could come
to their assistance. These arguments finally prevailed; and the politic general had the satisfaction to see the
high-spirited and hostile tribes forego their long-cherished rivalry, and, resigning the pleasures of revenge, so dear
to the barbarian, embrace one another as friends and champions in a common cause. To this wise policy the Spanish
commander owed quite as much of his subsequent successes, as to his arms.

Thus the foundations of the Mexican empire were hourly loosening, as the great vassals around the capital, on whom
it most relied, fell off one after another from their allegiance. The Aztecs, properly so called, formed but a small
part of the population of the valley. This was principally composed of cognate tribes, members of the same great family
of the Nahuatlacs, who had come upon the plateau at nearly the same time. They were mutual rivals, and were reduced one
after another by the more warlike Mexican, who held them in subjection, often by open force, always by fear. Fear was
the great principle of cohesion which bound together the discordant members of the monarchy, and this was now fast
dissolving before the influence of a power more mighty than that of the Aztec. This, it is true, was not the first time
that the conquered races had attempted to recover their independence; but all such attempts had failed for want of
concert. It was reserved for the commanding genius of Cortes to extinguish their old hereditary feuds, and, combining
their scattered energies, to animate them with a common principle of action.

Encouraged by this state of things, the Spanish general thought it a favourable moment to press his negotiations
with the capital. He availed himself of the presence of some noble Mexicans, taken in the late action with Sandoval, to
send another message to their master. It was in substance a repetition of the first with a renewed assurance, that, if
the city would return to its allegiance to the Spanish crown, the authority of Guatemozin should be confirmed, and the
persons and property of his subjects be respected. To this communication no reply was made. The young Indian emperor
had a spirit as dauntless as that of Cortes himself. On his head descended the full effects of that vicious system of
government bequeathed to him by his ancestors. But, as he saw his empire crumbling beneath him, he sought to uphold it
by his own energy and resources. He anticipated the defection of some vassals by establishing garrisons within their
walls. Others he conciliated by exempting them from tributes, or greatly lightening their burdens, or by advancing them
to posts of honour and authority in the state. He showed, at the same time, his implacable animosity towards the
Christians, by commanding that every one taken within his dominions should be sent to the capital, where he was
sacrificed with all the barbarous ceremonies prescribed by the Aztec ritual.

While these occurrences were passing, Cortes received the welcome intelligence, that the brigantines were completed
and waiting to be transported to Tezcuco. He detached a body for the service, consisting of two hundred Spanish foot
and fifteen horse, which he placed under the command of Sandoval. This cavalier had been rising daily in the estimation
both of the general and of the army. Though one of the youngest officers in the service, he possessed a cool head and a
ripe judgment, which fitted him for the most delicate and difficult undertakings. Sandoval was a native Of Medellin,
the birth-place of Cortes himself. He was warmly attached to his commander, and had on all occasions proved himself
worthy of his confidence. He was a man of few words, showing his worth rather by what he did, than what he said. His
honest, soldier-like deportment made him a favourite with the troops, and had its influence even on his enemies. He
unfortunately died in the flower of his age. But he discovered talents and military skill, which, had he lived to later
life, would undoubtedly have placed his name on the roll with those of the greatest captains of his nation.

Sandoval’s route was to lead him by Zoltepec, a city where the massacre of the forty-five Spaniards, already
noticed, had been perpetrated. The cavalier received orders to find out the guilty parties, if possible, and to punish
them for their share in the transaction.

When the Spaniards arrived at the spot, they found that the inhabitants, who had previous notice of their approach,
had all fled. In the deserted temples they discovered abundant traces of the fate of their countrymen; for, besides
their arms and clothing, and the hides of their horses, the heads of several soldiers, prepared in such a way that they
could be well preserved, were found suspended as trophies of the victory. In a neighbouring building, traced with
charcoal on the walls, they found the following inscription in Castilian: “In this place the unfortunate Juan Juste,
with many others of his company, was imprisoned.” This hidalgo was one of the followers of Narvaez, and had come with
him into the country in quest of gold, but had found, instead, an obscure and inglorious death. The eyes of the
soldiers were suffused with tears, as they gazed on the gloomy record, and their bosoms swelled with indignation, as
they thought of the horrible fate of the captives. Fortunately the inhabitants were not then before them. Some few, who
subsequently fell into their hands, were branded as slaves. But the greater part of the population, who threw
themselves, in the most abject manner, on the mercy of the Conquerors, imputing the blame of the affair to the Aztecs,
the Spanish commander spared, from pity, or contempt.

He now resumed his march on Tlascala; but scarcely had he crossed the borders of the republic, when he descried the
flaunting banners of the convoy which transported the brigantines, as it was threading its way through the defiles of
the mountains. Great was his satisfaction at the spectacle, for he had feared a detention of some days at Tlascala,
before the preparations for the march could be completed.

There were thirteen vessels in all, of different sizes. They had been constructed under the direction of the
experienced shipbuilder, Martin Lopez, aided by three of four Spanish carpenters and the friendly natives, some of whom
showed no mean degree of imitative skill. The brigantines, when completed, had been fairly tried on the waters of the
Zahuapan. They were then taken to pieces, and, as Lopez was impatient of delay, the several parts, the timbers,
anchors, iron-work, sails, and cordage were placed on the shoulders of the tamanes, and, under a numerous military
escort, were thus far advanced on the way to Tezcuco. Sandoval dismissed a part of the Indian convoy, as
superfluous.

Twenty thousand warriors he retained, dividing them into two equal bodies for the protection of the tamanes in the
centre. His own little body of Spaniards be distributed in like manner. The Tlascalans in the van marched under the
command of a chief who gloried in the name of Chichemecatl. For some reason Sandoval afterwards changed the order of
march, and placed this division in the rear — an arrangement which gave great umbrage to the doughty warrior that led
it, who asserted his right to the front, the place which he and his ancestors had always occupied, as the post of
danger. He was somewhat appeased by Sandoval’s assurance that it was for that very reason he had been transferred to
the rear, the quarter most likely to be assailed by the enemy. But even then he was greatly dissatisfied, on finding
that the Spanish commander was to march by his side, grudging, it would seem, that any other should share the laurel
with himself.

Slowly and painfully, encumbered with their heavy burden, the troops worked their way over steep eminences, and
rough mountainpasses, presenting, one might suppose in their long line of march, many a vulnerable point to an enemy.
But, although small parties of warriors were seen hovering at times on their flanks and rear, they kept at a respectful
distance, not caring to encounter so formidable a foe. On the fourth day the warlike caravan arrived in safety before
Tezcuco.

Their approach was beheld with joy by Cortes and the soldiers, who hailed it as a signal of a speedy termination of
the war. The general, attended by his officers, all dressed in their richest attire, came out to welcome the convoy. It
extended over a space of two leagues, and so slow was its progress that six hours elapsed before the closing files had
entered the city. The Tlascalan chiefs displayed their wonted bravery of apparel, and the whole array, composed of the
flower of their warriors, made a brilliant appearance. They marched by the sound of atabal and comet, and, as they
traversed the streets of the capital amidst the acclamations of the soldiery, they made the city ring with the shouts
of “Castile and Tlascala, long live our sovereign, the emperor.”

“It was a marvellous thing,” exclaims the Conqueror, in his letters, “that few have seen, or even heard of — this
transportation of thirteen vessels of war on the shoulders of men, for nearly twenty leagues across the mountains!” It
was, indeed, a stupendous achievement, and not easily matched in ancient or modern story; one which only a genius like
that of Cortes could have devised, or a daring spirit like his have so successfully executed. Little did he foresee,
when he ordered the destruction of the fleet which first brought him to the country, and with his usual forecast
commanded the preservation of the iron-work and rigging — little did he foresee the important uses for which they were
to be reserved. So important, that on their preservation may be said to have depended the successful issue of his great
enterprise.

Chapter II 1521

CORTES RECONNOITRES THE CAPITAL— OCCUPIES TACUBA— SKIRMISHES WITH THE ENEMY— EXPEDITION OF SANDOVAL—
ARRIVAL OF REINFORCEMENTS

IN the course of three or four days, the Spanish general furnished the Tlascalans with the opportunity so much
coveted, and allowed their boiling spirits to effervesce in active operations. He had, for some time, meditated an
expedition to reconnoitre the capital and its environs, and to chastise, on the way, certain places which had sent him
insulting messages of defiance, and which were particularly active in their hostilities. He disclosed his design to a
few only of his principal officers, from his distrust of the Tezcucans, whom he suspected to be in correspondence with
the enemy.

Early in the spring, he left Tezcuco, at the head of three hundred and fifty Spaniards and the whole strength of his
allies. He took with him Alvarado and Olid, and intrusted the charge of the garrison to Sandoval. Cortes had practical
acquaintance with the incompetence of the first of these cavaliers for so delicate a post, during his short, but
disastrous, rule in Mexico.

But all his precautions had not availed to shroud his designs from the vigilant foe, whose eye was on all his
movements; who seemed even to divine his thoughts, and to be prepared to thwart their execution. He had advanced but a
few leagues, when he was met by a considerable body of Mexicans, drawn up to dispute his progress. A sharp skirmish
took place, in which the enemy were driven from the ground, and the way was left open to the Christians. They held a
circuitous route to the north, and their first point of attack was the insular town of Xaltocan, situated on the
northern extremity of the lake of that name, now called San Christobal. The town was entirely surrounded by water, and
communicated with the main land by means of causeways, in the same manner as the Mexican capital. Cortes, riding at the
head of his cavalry, advanced along the dike, till he was brought to a stand by finding a wide opening in it, through
which the waters poured so as to be altogether impracticable, not only for horse, but for infantry. The lake was
covered with canoes, filled with Aztec warriors, who, anticipating the movement of the Spaniards, had come to the aid
of the city. They now began a furious discharge of stones and arrows on the assailants, while they were themselves
tolerably well protected from the musketry of their enemy by the light bulwarks, with which, for that purpose, they had
fortified their canoes.

The severe volleys of the Mexicans did some injury to the Spaniards and their allies, and began to throw them into
disorder, crowded as they were on the narrow causeway, without the means of advancing, when Cortes ordered a retreat.
This was followed by renewed tempests of missiles, accompanied by taunts and fierce yells of defiance. The battle-cry
of the Aztec, like the war-whoop of the North American Indian, was an appalling note, according to the Conqueror’s own
acknowledgment, in the ears of the Spaniards. At this juncture, the general fortunately obtained information from a
deserter, one of the Mexican allies, of a ford, by which the army might traverse the shallow lake, and penetrate the
place. He instantly detached the greater part of the infantry on the service, posting himself with the remainder, and
with the horse, at the entrance of the passage, to cover the attack and prevent any interruption in the rear.

The soldiers, under the direction of the Indian guide, forded the lake without much difficulty, though in some
places the water came above their girdles. During the passage, they were annoyed by the enemy’s missiles; but when they
had gained the dry level, they took ample revenge, and speedily put all who resisted to the sword. The greater part,
together with the townsmen, made their escape in the boats. The place was now abandoned to pillage. The troops found in
it many women, who had been left to their fate; and these, together with a considerable quantity of cotton stuffs,
gold, and articles of food, fell into the hands of the victors, who, setting fire to the deserted city, returned in
triumph to their comrades.

Continuing his circuitous route, Cortes presented himself successively before three other places, each of which had
been deserted by the inhabitants in anticipation of his arrival. The principal of these, Azcapotzalco, had once been
the capital of an independent state. It was now the great slave-market of the Aztecs, where their unfortunate captives
were brought, and disposed of at public sale. It was also the quarter occupied by the jewellers; and the place whence
the Spaniards obtained the goldsmiths who melted down the rich treasures received from Montezuma. But they found there
only a small supply of the precious metals, or, indeed, of anything else of value, as the people had been careful to
remove their effects. They spared the buildings, however, in consideration of their having met with no resistance.

During the nights, the troops bivouacked in the open fields, maintaining the strictest watch, for the country was
all in arms, and beacons were flaming on every hill-top, while dark masses of the enemy were occasionally descried in
the distance. The Spaniards were now traversing the most opulent region of Anahuac. Cities and villages were scattered
over hill and valley, all giving token of a dense and industrious population. It was the general’s purpose to march at
once on Tacuba, and establish his quarters in that ancient capital for the present. He found a strong force encamped
under its walls, prepared to dispute his entrance. Without waiting for their advance, he rode at full gallop against
them with his little body of horse. The arquebuses and crossbows opened a lively volley on their extended wings, and
the infantry, armed with their swords and copper-headed lances, and supported by the Indian battalions, followed up the
attack of the horse with an alacrity which soon put the enemy to flight. Cortes led his troops without further
opposition into the suburbs of Tacuba, the ancient Tlacopan, where he established himself for the night.

On the following morning, he found the indefatigable Aztecs again under arms, and, on the open ground before the
city, prepared to give him battle. He marched out against them, and, after an action hotly contested, though of no long
duration, again routed them. They fled towards the town, but were driven through the streets at the point of the lance,
and were compelled, together with the inhabitants, to evacuate the place. The city was then delivered over to pillage;
and the Indian allies, not content with plundering the houses of everything portable within them, set them on fire, and
in a short time a quarter of the town — the poorer dwellings, probably, built of light, combustible materials — was in
flames.

Cortes proposed to remain in his present quarters for some days, during which time he established his own residence
in the ancient palace of the lords of Tlacopan. It was a long range of low buildings, like most of the royal residences
in the country, and offered good accommodations for the Spanish forces. During his halt here, there was not a day on
which the army was not engaged in one or more rencontres with the enemy. They terminated almost uniformly in favour of
the Spaniards, though with more or less injury to them and to their allies. One encounter, indeed, had nearly been
attended with more fatal consequences.

The Spanish general, in the heat of pursuit, had allowed himself to be decoyed upon the great causeway — the same
which had once been so fatal to his army. He followed the flying foe, until he had gained the further side of the
nearest bridge, which had been repaired since the disastrous action of the noche triste. When thus far advanced, the
Aztecs, with the rapidity of lightning, turned on him, and he beheld a large reinforcement in their rear, all fresh on
the field, prepared to support their countrymen. At the same time, swarms of boats, unobserved in the eagerness of the
chase, seemed to start up as if by magic, covering the waters around. The Spaniards were now exposed to a perfect
hailstorm of missiles, both from the causeway and the lake; but they stood unmoved amidst the tempest, when Cortes, too
late perceiving his error, gave orders for the retreat. Slowly, and with admirable coolness, his men receded, step by
step, offering a resolute front to the enemy. The Mexicans came on with their usual vociferation, making the shores
echo to their war-cries, and striking at the Spaniards with their long pikes, and with poles, to which the swords taken
from the Christians had been fastened. A cavalier, named Volante, bearing the standard of Cortes, was felled by one of
their weapons, and, tumbling into the lake, was picked up by the Mexican boats. He was a man of a muscular frame, and,
as the enemy were dragging him off, he succeeded in extricating himself from their grasp, and clenching his colours in
his hand, with a desperate effort sprang back upon the causeway. At length, after some hard fighting, in which many of
the Spaniards were wounded, and many of their allies slain, the troops regained the land, where Cortes, with a full
heart, returned thanks to Heaven for what he might well regard as a providential deliverance. It was a salutary lesson;
though he should scarcely have needed one, so soon after the affair of Iztapalapan, to warn him of the wily tactics of
his enemy.

It had been one of Cortes’ principal objects in this expedition to obtain an interview, if possible, with the Aztec
emperor, or with some of the great lords at his court, and to try if some means for an accommodation could not be
found, by which he might avoid the appeal to arms. An occasion for such a parley presented itself, when his forces were
one day confronted with those of the enemy, with a broken bridge interposed between them. Cortes, riding in advance of
his people, intimated by signs his peaceful intent, and that he wished to confer with the Aztecs. They respected the
signal, and, with the aid of his interpreter, he requested, that, if there were any great chief among them, he would
come forward and hold a parley with him. The Mexicans replied, in derision, they were all chiefs, and bade him speak
openly whatever he had to tell them. As the general returned no answer, they asked, why he did not make another visit
to the capital, and tauntingly added, “Perhaps Malinche does not expect to find there another Montezuma, as obedient to
his command as the former.” Some of them complimented the Tlascalans with the epithet of women, who, they said, would
never have ventured so near the capital, but for the protection of the white men.

The animosity of the two nations was not confined to these harmless, though bitter jests, but showed itself in
regular cartels of defiance, which daily passed between the principal chieftains. These were followed by combats, in
which one or more champions fought on a side, to vindicate the honour of their respective countries. A fair field of
fight was given to the warriors, who conducted those combats, a l’outrance, with the punctilio of a European tourney;
displaying a valour worthy of the two boldest of the races of Anahuac, and a skill in the management of their weapons,
which drew forth the admiration of the Spaniards.

Cortes had now been six days in Tacuba. There was nothing further to detain him, as he had accomplished the chief
objects of his expedition. He had humbled several of the places which had been most active in their hostility; and he
had revived the credit of the Castilian arms, which had been much tarnished by their former reverses in this quarter of
the valley. He had also made himself acquainted with the condition of the capital, which he found in a better posture
of defence than he had imagined. All the ravages of the preceding year seemed to be repaired, and there was no
evidence, even to his experienced eye, that the wasting hand of war had so lately swept over the land. The Aztec
troops, which swarmed through the valley, seemed to be well appointed, and showed an invincible spirit, as if prepared
to resist to the last. It is true, they had been beaten in every encounter. In the open field they were no match for
the Spaniards, whose cavalry they could never comprehend, and whose firearms easily penetrated the cotton mail, which
formed the stoutest defence of the Indian warrior. But, entangled in the long streets and narrow lanes of the
metropolis, where every house was a citadel, the Spaniards, as experience had shown, would lose much of their
superiority. With the Mexican emperor, confident in the strength of his preparations, the general saw there was no
probability of effecting an accommodation. He saw, too, the necessity of the most careful preparations on his own part
— indeed, that he must strain his resources to the utmost, before he could safely venture to rouse the lion in his
lair.

The Spaniards returned by the same route by which they had come. Their retreat was interpreted into a flight by the
natives, who hung on the rear of the army, uttering vainglorious vaunts, and saluting the troops with showers of
arrows, which did some mischief. Cortes resorted to one of their own stratagems to rid himself of this annoyance. He
divided his cavalry into two or three small parties, and concealed them among some thick shrubbery, which fringed both
sides of the road. The rest of the army continued its march. The Mexicans followed, unsuspicious of the ambuscade, when
the horse, suddenly darting from their place of concealment, threw the enemy’s flanks into confusion, and the
retreating columns of infantry, facing about suddenly, commenced a brisk attack, which completed their consternation.
It was a broad and level plain, over which the panic-struck Mexicans made the best of their way, without attempting
resistance; while the cavalry, riding them down and piercing the fugitives with their lances, followed up the chase for
several miles, in what Cortes calls a truly beautiful style. The army experienced no further annoyance from the
enemy.

On their arrival at Tezcuco, they were greeted with joy by their comrades, who had received no tidings of them
during the fortnight which had elapsed since their departure. The Tlascalans, immediately on their return, requested
the general’s permission to carry back to their own country the valuable booty which they had gathered in their foray —
a request which, however unapalatable, he could not refuse.

The troops had not been in quarters more than two or three days, when an embassy arrived from Chalco, again
soliciting the protection of the Spaniards against the Mexicans, who menaced them from several points in their
neighbourhood. But the soldiers were so much exhausted by unintermitted vigils, forced marches, battles, and wounds,
that Cortes wished to give them a breathing-time to recruit, before engaging in a new expedition. He answered the
application of the Chalcans, by sending his missives to the allied cities, calling on them to march to the assistance
of their confederate. It is not to be supposed that they could comprehend the import of his despatches. But the paper,
with its mysterious characters, served for a warrant to the officer who bore it, as the interpreter of the general’s
commands.

But, although these were implicitly obeyed, the Chalcans felt the danger so pressing, that they soon repeated their
petition for the Spaniards to come in person to their relief. Cortes no longer hesitated; for he was well aware of the
importance of Chalco, not merely on its own account, but from its position, which commanded one of the great avenues to
Tlascala, and to Vera–Cruz, the intercourse with which should run no risk of interruption. Without further loss of
time, therefore, he detached a body of three hundred Spanish foot and twenty horse, under the command of Sandoval, for
the protection of the city.

That active officer soon presented himself before Chalco, and, strengthened by the reinforcement of its own troops
and those of the confederate towns, directed his first operations against Huaxtepec, a place of some importance, lying
two leagues or more to the south among the mountains. It was held by a strong Mexican force, watching their opportunity
to make a descent upon Chalco. The Spaniards found the enemy drawn up at a distance from the town, prepared to receive
them. The ground was broken and tangled with bushes, unfavourable to the cavalry, which in consequence soon fell into
disorder; and Sandoval, finding himself embarrassed by their movements, ordered them, after sustaining some loss, from
the field. In their place he brought up his musketeers and crossbowmen, who poured a rapid fire into the thick columns
of the Indians. The rest of the infantry, with sword and pike, charged the flanks of the enemy, who, bewildered by the
shock, after sustaining considerable slaughter, fell back in an irregular manner, leaving the field of battle to the
Spaniards.

The victors proposed to bivouac there for the night. But, while engaged in preparations for their evening meal, they
were aroused by the cry of “To arms, to arms! the enemy is upon us!” In an instant the trooper was in his saddle, the
soldier grasped his musket or his good toledo, and the action was renewed with greater fury than before. The Mexicans
had received a reinforcement from the city. But their second attempt was not more fortunate than their first; and the
victorious Spaniards, driving their antagonists before them, entered and took possession of the town itself, which had
already been evacuated by the inhabitants.

Sandoval took up his quarters in the dwelling of the lord of the place, surrounded by gardens, which rivalled those
of Iztapalapan in magnificence, and surpassed them in extent. They are said to have been two leagues in circumference,
having pleasure-houses, and numerous tanks stocked with various kinds of fish; and they were embellished with trees,
shrubs, and plants, native and exotic, some selected for their beauty and fragrance, others for their medicinal
properties. They were scientifically arranged; and the whole establishment displayed a degree of horticultural taste
and knowledge, of which it would not have been easy to find a counterpart, at that day, in the more civilised
communities of Europe. Such is the testimony not only of the rude Conquerors, but of men of science, who visited these
beautiful repositories in the day of their glory.

After halting two days to refresh his forces in this agreeable spot, Sandoval marched on Jacapichtla, about six
miles to the eastward. It was a town, or rather fortress, perched on a rocky eminence, almost inaccessible from its
steepness. It was garrisoned by a Mexican force, who rolled down on the assailants, as they attempted to scale the
heights, huge fragments of rock, which, thundering over the sides of the precipice, carried ruin and desolation in
their path. The Indian confederates fell back in dismay from the attempt. But Sandoval, indignant that any achievement
should be too difficult for a Spaniard, commanded his cavaliers to dismount, and, declaring that he “would carry the
place or die in the attempt,” led on his men with the cheering cry of “St. Iago.” With renewed courage, they now
followed their gallant leader up the ascent, under a storm of lighter missiles, mingled with huge masses of stone,
which, breaking into splinters, overturned the assailants, and made fearful havoc in their ranks. Sandoval, who had
been wounded on the preceding day, received a severe contusion on the head, while more than one of his brave comrades
were struck down by his side. Still they clambered up, sustaining themselves by the bushes or projecting pieces of
rock, and seemed to force themselves onward as much by the energy of their wills, as by the strength of their
bodies.

After incredible toil, they stood on the summit, face to face with the astonished garrison. For a moment they paused
to recover breath, then sprang furiously on their foes. The struggle was short but desperate. Most of the Aztecs were
put to the sword. Some were thrown headlong over the battlements, and others, letting themselves down the precipice,
were killed on the borders of a little stream that wound round its base, the waters of which were so polluted with
blood, that the victors were unable to slake their thirst with them for a full hour!

Sandoval, having now accomplished the object of his expedition, by reducing the strongholds which had so long held
the Chalcans in awe, returned in triumph to Tezcuco. Meanwhile, the Aztec emperor, whose vigilant eye had been
attentive to all that had passed, thought that the absence of so many of its warriors afforded a favourable opportunity
for recovering Chalco. He sent a fleet of boats for this purpose across the lake, with a numerous force under the
command of some of his most valiant chiefs. Fortunately the absent Chalcans reached their city before the arrival of
the enemy; but, though supported by their Indian allies, they were so much alarmed by the magnitude of the hostile
array, that they sent again to the Spaniards, invoking their aid.

The messengers arrived at the same time with Sandoval and his army. Cortes was much puzzled by the contradictory
accounts. He suspected some negligence in his lieutenant, and, displeased with his precipitate return in this unsettled
state of the affair, ordered him back at once, with such of his forces as were in fighting condition. Sandoval felt
deeply injured by this proceeding, but he made no attempt at exculpation, and, obeying his commander in silence, put
himself at the head of his troops, and made a rapid countermarch on the Indian city.

Before he reached it, a battle had been fought between the Mexicans and the confederates, in which the latter, who
had acquired unwonted confidence from their recent successes, were victorious. A number of Aztec nobles fell into their
hands in the engagement, whom they delivered to Sandoval to be carried off as prisoners to Tezcuco. On his arrival
there, the cavalier, wounded by the unworthy treatment he had received, retired to his own quarters without presenting
himself before his chief.

During his absence, the inquiries of Cortes had satisfied him of his own precipitate conduct, and of the great
injustice he had done his lieutenant. There was no man in the army on whose services he set so high a value, as the
responsible situations in which he had placed him plainly showed; and there was none for whom he seems to have
entertained a greater personal regard. On Sandoval’s return, therefore, Cortes instantly sent to request his
attendance; when, with a soldier’s frankness, he made such an explanation as soothed the irritated spirit of the
cavalier — a matter of no great difficulty, as the latter had too generous a nature, and too earnest a devotion to his
commander and the cause in which they were embarked, to harbour a petty feeling of resentment in his bosom.

During the occurrence of these events, the work was going forward actively on the canal, and the brigantines were
within a fortnight of their completion. The greatest vigilance was required, in the mean time, to prevent their
destruction by the enemy, who had already made three ineffectual attempts to burn them on the stocks. The precautions
which Cortes thought it necessary to take against the Tezcucans themselves, added not a little to his
embarrassment.

At this time he received embassies from different Indian states, some of them on the remote shores of the Mexican
Gulf, tendering their allegiance and soliciting his protection. For this he was partly indebted to the good offices of
Ixtlilxochitl, who, in consequence of his brother’s death, was now advanced to the sovereignty of Tezcuco. This
important position greatly increased his consideration and authority through the country, of which he freely availed
himself to bring the natives under the dominion of the Spaniards.

The general received also at this time the welcome intelligence of the arrival of three vessels at Villa Rica, with
two hundred men on board, well provided with arms and ammunition, and with seventy or eighty horses. It was a most
seasonable reinforcement. From what quarter it came is uncertain; most probably, from Hispaniola. Cortes, it may be
remembered, had sent for supplies to that place; and the authorities of the island, who had general jurisdiction over
the affairs of the colonies, had shown themselves, on more than one occasion, well inclined towards him, probably
considering him, under all circumstances, as better fitted than any other man to achieve the conquest of the
country.

The new recruits soon found their way to Tezcuco; as the communications with the port were now open and
unobstructed. Among them were several cavaliers of consideration, one of whom, Julian de Alderete, the royal treasurer,
came over to superintend the interests of the crown.

Chapter III 1521

SECOND RECONNOITRING EXPEDITION— THE CAPTURE OF CUERNAVACA— BATTLES AT XOCHIMILCO— NARROW ESCAPE OF
CORTES— HE ENTERS TACUBA

NOTWITHSTANDING the relief which had been afforded to the people of Chalco, it was so ineffectual, that envoys from
that city again arrived at Tezcuco, bearing a hieroglyphical chart, on which were depicted several strong places in
their neighbourhood, garrisoned by the Aztecs, from which they expected annoyance. Cortes determined this time to take
the affair into his own hands, and to scour the country so effectually, as to place Chalco, if possible, in a state of
security. He did not confine himself to this object, but proposed, before his return, to pass quite round the great
lakes, and reconnoitre the country to the south of them, in the same manner as he had before done to the west. In the
course of his march, he would direct his arms against some of the strong places from which the Mexicans might expect
support in the siege. Two or three weeks must elapse before the completion of the brigantines; and, if no other good
resulted from the expedition, it would give active occupation to his troops, whose turbulent spirits might fester into
discontent in the monotonous existence of a camp.

He selected for the expedition thirty horse and three hundred Spanish infantry, with a considerable body of
Tlascalan and Tezcucan warriors. The remaining garrison he left in charge of the trusty Sandoval, who, with the
friendly lord of the capital, would watch over the construction of the brigantines, and protect them from the assaults
of the Aztecs.

On the fifth of April he began his march, and on the following day arrived at Chalco, where he was met by a number
of the confederate chiefs. With the aid of his faithful interpreters, Dona Marina and Aguilar, he explained to them the
objects of his present expedition; stated his purpose soon to enforce the blockade of Mexico, and required their
co-operation with the whole strength of their levies. To this they readily assented; and he soon received a sufficient
proof of their friendly disposition in the forces which joined him on the march, amounting, according to one of the
army, to more than had ever before followed his banner.

Taking a southerly direction, the troops, after leaving Chalco, struck into the recesses of the wild sierra, which,
with its bristling peaks, serves as a formidable palisade to fence round the beautiful valley; while, within its rugged
arms, it shuts up many a green and fruitful pasture of its own. As the Spaniards passed through its deep gorges, they
occasionally wound round the base of some huge cliff or rocky eminence, on which the inhabitants had built their town
in the same manner as was done by the people of Europe in the feudal ages; a position which, however favourable to the
picturesque, intimates a sense of insecurity as the cause of it, which may reconcile us to the absence of this striking
appendage of the landscape in our own more fortunate country.

The occupants of these airy pinnacles took advantage of their situation to shower down stones and arrows on the
troops, as they defiled through the narrow passes of the sierra. Though greatly annoyed by their incessant hostilities,
Cortes held on his way, till, winding round the base of a castellated cliff, occupied by a strong garrison of Indians,
he was so severely pressed, that he felt to pass on without chastising the aggressors would imply a want of strength,
which must disparage him in the eyes of his allies. Halting in the valley, therefore, he detached a small body of light
troops to scale the heights, while he remained with the main body of the army below, to guard against surprise from the
enemy.

The lower region of the rocky eminence was so steep, that the soldiers found it no easy matter to ascend,
scrambling, as well as they could, with hand and knee. But, as they came into the more exposed view of the garrison,
the latter rolled down huge masses of rock, which, bounding along the declivity, and breaking into fragments, crushed
the foremost assailants, and mangled their limbs in a frightful manner. Still they strove to work their way upward, now
taking advantage of some gulley, worn by the winter torrent, now sheltering themselves behind a projecting cliff, or
some straggling tree, anchored among the crevices of the mountain. It was all in vain. For no sooner did they emerge
again into open view, than the rocky avalanche thundered on their heads with a fury against which steel helm and
cuirass were as little defence as gossamer. All the party were more or less wounded. Eight of the number were killed on
the spot — a loss the little band could ill afford — and the gallant ensign Corral, who led the advance, saw the banner
in his hand torn into shreds. Cortes, at length convinced of the impracticability of the attempt, at least without a
more severe loss than he was disposed to incur, commanded a retreat. It was high time; for a large body of the enemy
were on full march across the valley to attack him.

He did not wait for their approach, but gathering his broken files together, headed his cavalry, and spurred boldly
against them. On the level plain, the Spaniards were on their own ground. The Indians, unable to sustain the furious
onset, broke, and fell back before it. The fight soon became a rout, and the fiery cavaliers, dashing over them at full
gallop, or running them through with their lances, took some revenge for their late discomfiture. The pursuit continued
for some miles, till the nimble foe made their escape into the rugged fastnesses of the sierra, where the Spaniards did
not care to follow. The weather was sultry, and, as the country was nearly destitute of water, the men and horses
suffered extremely. Before evening they reached a spot overshadowed by a grove of wild mulberry trees, in which some
scanty springs afforded a miserable supply to the army.

Near the place rose another rocky summit of the sierra, garrisoned by a stronger force than the one which they had
encountered in the former part of the day; and at no great distance stood a second fortress at a still greater height,
though considerably smaller than its neighbour. This was also tenanted by a body of warriors, who, as well as those of
the adjoining cliff, soon made active demonstration of their hostility by pouring down missiles on the troops below.
Cortes, anxious to retrieve the disgrace of the morning, ordered an assault on the larger, and, as it seemed, more
practicable eminence. But, though two attempts were made with great resolution, they were repulsed with loss to the
assailants. The rocky sides of the hill had been artificially cut and smoothed, so as greatly to increase the natural
difficulties of the ascent. — The shades of evening now closed around; and Cortes drew off his men to the mulberry
grove, where he took up his bivouac for the night, deeply chagrined at having been twice foiled by the enemy on the
same day.

During the night, the Indian force, which occupied the adjoining height, passed over to their brethren, to aid them
in the encounter, which they foresaw would be renewed on the following morning. No sooner did the Spanish general, at
the break of day, become aware of this manoeuvre, than, with his usual quickness, he took advantage of it. He detached
a body of musketeers and crossbowmen to occupy the deserted eminence, purposing, as soon as this was done, to lead the
assault in person against the other. It was not long before the Castilian banner was seen streaming from the rocky
pinnacle, when the general instantly led up his men to the attack. And, while the garrison were meeting them resolutely
on that quarter, the detachment on the neighbouring heights poured into the Place a well-directed fire, which so much
distressed the enemy, that, in a very short time, they signified their willingness to capitulate.

On entering the place, the Spaniards found that a plain of some extent ran along the crest of the sierra, and that
it was tenanted, not only by men, but by women and their families, with their effects. No violence was offered by the
victors to the property or persons of the vanquished, and the knowledge of his lenity induced the Indian garrison, who
had made so stout a resistance on the morning of the preceding day, to tender their submission.

After a halt of two days in this sequestered region, the army resumed its march in a south-westerly direction on
Huaxtepec, the same city which had surrendered to Sandoval. Here they were kindly received by the cacique, and
entertained in his magnificent gardens, which Cortes and his officers, who had not before seen them, compared with the
best in Castile. Still threading the wild mountain mazes, the army passed through Jauhtepec and several other places,
which were abandoned at their approach. As the inhabitants, however, hung in armed bodies on their flanks and rear,
doing them occasionally some mischief, the Spaniards took their revenge by burning the deserted towns.

Thus holding on their fiery track, they descended the bold slope of the Cordilleras, which, on the south, are far
more precipitous than on the Atlantic side. Indeed, a single day’s journey is sufficient to place the traveller on a
level several thousand feet lower than that occupied by him in the morning; thus conveying him in a few hours through
the climates of many degrees of latitude. On the ninth day of their march, the troops arrived before the strong city of
Quauhnahuac, or Cuernavaca, as since called by the Spaniards. It was the ancient capital of the Tlahuicas, and the most
considerable place for wealth and population in this part of the country. It was tributary to the Aztecs, and a
garrison of this nation was quartered within its walls. The town was singularly situated, on a projecting piece of
land, encompassed by barrancas, or formidable ravines, except on one side, which opened on a rich and well cultivated
country. For, though the place stood at an elevation of between five and six thousand feet above the level of the sea,
it had a southern exposure so sheltered by the mountain barrier on the north, that its climate was as soft and genial
as that of a much lower region.

The Spaniards, on arriving before this city, the limit of their southerly progress, found themselves separated from
it by one of the vast barrancas before noticed, which resembled one of those frightful rents not unfrequent in the
Mexican Andes, the result, no doubt, of some terrible convulsion in earlier ages. The rocky sides of the ravine sunk
perpendicularly down, and so bare as scarcely to exhibit even a vestige of the cactus or of the other hardy plants with
which Nature in these fruitful regions so gracefully covers up her deformities. At the bottom of the ravine was seen a
little stream, which, oozing from the stony bowels of the sierra, tumbled along its narrow channel, and contributed by
its perpetual moisture to the exuberant fertility of the valley. This rivulet, which at certain seasons of the year was
swollen to a torrent, was traversed at some distance below the town, where the sloping sides of the barranca afforded a
more practicable passage, by two rude bridges, both of which had been broken in anticipation of the coming of the
Spaniards. The latter had now arrived on the brink of the chasm. It was, as has been remarked, of no great width, and
the army drawn up on its borders was directly exposed to the archery of the garrison, on whom its own fire made little
impression, protected as they were by their defences.

The general, annoyed by his position, sent a detachment to seek a passage lower down, by which the troops might be
landed on the other side. But although the banks of the ravine became less formidable as they descended, they found no
means of crossing the river, till a path unexpectedly presented itself, on which, probably, no one before hid ever been
daring enough to venture.

From the cliffs on the opposite sides of the barranca, two huge trees shot up to an enormous height, and, inclining
towards each other, interlaced their boughs so as to form a sort of natural bridge. Across this avenue, in mid air, a
Tlascalan conceived it would not be difficult to pass to the opposite bank. The bold mountaineer succeeded in the
attempt, and was soon followed by several others of his countrymen, trained to feats of agility and strength among
their native hills. The Spaniards imitated their example. It was a perilous effort for an armed man to make his way
over this aerial causeway, swayed to and fro by the wind, where the brain might become giddy, and where a single false
movement of hand or foot would plunge him into the abyss below. Three of the soldiers lost their hold and fell. The
rest, consisting of some twenty or thirty Spaniards, and a considerable number of Tlascalans, alighted in safety on the
other bank. There hastily forming, they marched with all speed on the city. The enemy, engaged in their contest with
the Castilians on the opposite brink of the ravine, were taken by surprise — which, indeed, could scarcely have been
exceeded if they had seen their foe drop from the clouds on the field of battle.

They made a brave resistance, however, when fortunately the Spaniards succeeded in repairing one of the dilapidated
bridges in such a manner as to enable both cavalry and foot to cross the river, though with much delay. The horse under
and Andres de Tapia, instantly rode up to the succour of their countrymen. They were soon followed by Cortes at the
head of the remaining battalions; and the enemy, driven from one point to another, were compelled to evacuate the city,
and to take refuge among the mountains. The buildings in one quarter of the town were speedily wrapt in flames. The
place was abandoned to pillage, and, as it was one of the most opulent marts in the country, it amply compensated the
victors for the toil and danger they had encountered. The trembling caciques, returning soon after to the city,
appeared before Cortes, and deprecating his resentment by charging the blame, as usual, on the Mexicans, threw
themselves on his mercy. Satisfied with their submission, he allowed no further violence to the inhabitants.

Having thus accomplished the great object of his expedition across the mountains, the Spanish commander turned his
face northwards, to recross the formidable barrier which divided him from the valley. The ascent, steep and laborious,
was rendered still more difficult by fragments of rock and loose stones which encumbered the passes. The weather was
sultry, and, as the stony soil was nearly destitute of water, the troops suffered severely from thirst. Several of
them, indeed, fainted on the road, and a few of the Indian allies perished from exhaustion. The line of march must have
taken the army across the eastern shoulder of the mountain, called the Cruz del Marques, or Cross of the Marquess, from
a huge stone cross, erected there to indicate the boundary of the territories granted by the crown to Cortes, as
Marquess of the Valley. Much, indeed, of the route lately traversed by the troops lay across the princely domain
subsequently assigned to the Conqueror.

The point of attack selected by the general was Xochimilco, or the “field of flowers,” as its name implies, from the
floating gardens which rode at anchor, as it were, on the neighbouring waters. It was one of the most potent and
wealthy cities in the Mexican valley, and a staunch vassal of the Aztec crown. It stood, like the capital itself,
partly in the water, and was approached in that quarter by causeways of no great length. The town was composed of
houses like those of most other places of like magnitude in the country, mostly of cottages or huts made of clay and
the light bamboo, mingled with aspiring teocallis, and edifices of stone, belonging to the more opulent classes.

As the Spaniards advanced, they were met by skirmishing parties of the enemy, who, after dismissing a light volley
of arrows, rapidly retreated before them. As they took the direction of Xochimilco, Cortes inferred that they were
prepared to resist him in considerable force. It exceeded his expectations.

On traversing the principal causeway, he found it occupied, at the further extremity, by a numerous body of
warriors, who, stationed on the opposite sides of a bridge, which had been broken, were prepared to dispute his
passage. They had constructed a temporary barrier of palisades, which screened them from the fire of the musketry. But
the water in its neighbourhood was very shallow. and the cavaliers and infantry, plunging into it, soon made their way,
swimming or wading, as they could, in face of a storm of missiles, to the landing, near the town. Here they closed with
the enemy, and, hand to hand, after a sharp struggle, drove them back on the city; a few, however, taking the direction
of the open country, were followed up by the cavalry. The great mass hotly pursued by the infantry, were driven through
street and lane, without much further resistance. Cortes, with a few followers, disengaging himself from the tumult,
remained near the entrance of the city. He had not been there long, when he was assailed by a fresh body of Indians,
who suddenly poured into the place from a neighbouring dike. The general, with his usual fearlessness, threw himself
into the midst, in hopes to check their advance. But his own followers were too few to support him, and he was
overwhelmed by the crowd of combatants. His horse lost his footing and fell; and Cortes, who received a severe blow on
the head before he could rise, was seized and dragged off in triumph by the Indians. At this critical moment, a
Tlascalan, who perceived the general’s extremity, sprang, like one of the wild ocelots of his own forests, into the
midst of the assailants, and endeavoured to tear him from their grasp. Two of the general’s servants also speedily came
to the rescue, and Cortes, with their aid and that of the brave Tlascalan, succeeded in regaining his feet and shaking
off his enemies. To vault into the saddle and brandish his good lance was but the work of a moment. Others of his men
quickly came up, and the clash of arms reaching the ears of the Spaniards who had gone in pursuit, they returned, and,
after a desperate conflict, forced the enemy from the city. Their retreat, however, was intercepted by the cavalry
returning from the country, and, thus hemmed in between the opposite columns, they were cut to pieces, or saved
themselves only by plunging into the lake. This was the greatest personal danger which Cortes had yet encountered. His
life was in the power of the barbarians, and, had it not been for their eagerness to take him prisoner, he must
undoubtedly have lost it. To the same cause may be frequently attributed the preservation of the Spaniards in these
engagements.

It was not yet dusk when Cortes and his followers re-entered the city; and the general’s first act was to ascend a
neighbouring teocalli and reconnoitre the surrounding country. He there beheld a sight which might have troubled a
bolder spirit than his. The surface of the salt lake was darkened with canoes, and the causeway, for many a mile, with
Indian squadrons, apparently on their march towards the Christian camp. In fact, no sooner had Guatemozin been apprised
of the arrival of the white men at Xochimilco, than he mustered his levies in great force to relieve the city. They
were now on their march, and, as the capital was but four leagues distant, would arrive soon after nightfall.

Cortes made active preparations for the defence of his quarters. He stationed a corps of pikemen along the landing
where the Aztecs would be likely to disembark. He doubled the sentinels, and, with his principal officers, made the
rounds repeatedly in the course of the night. In addition to other causes for watchfulness, the bolts of the
crossbowmen were nearly exhausted, and the archers were busily employed in preparing and adjusting shafts to the copper
heads, of which great store bad been provided for the army. There was little sleep in the camp that night.

It passed away, however, without molestation from the enemy. Though not stormy, it was exceedingly dark. But,
although the Spaniards on duty could see nothing, they distinctly heard the sound of many oars in the water, at no
great distance from the shore. Yet those on board the canoes made no attempt to land, distrusting, or advised, it may
be, of the preparations made for their reception. With early dawn, they were under arms, and, without waiting for
movement of the Spaniards, poured into the city and attacked them in their own quarters.

The Spaniards, who were gathered in the area round one of the teocallis, were taken at disadvantage in the town,
where the narrow lanes and streets, many of them covered with a smooth and slippery cement, offered obvious impediments
to the manoeuvres of cavalry. But Cortes hastily formed his muskeeters and crossbowmen, and poured such a lively, well
directed fire into the enemy’s ranks, as threw him into disorder, and compelled him to recoil. The infantry, with their
long pikes, followed up the blow; and the horse, charging at full speed, as the retreating Aztecs emerged from the
city, drove them several miles along the main land.

At some distance, however, they were met by a strong reinforcement of their countrymen, and rallying, the tide of
battle turned, and the cavaliers, swept along by it, gave the rein to their steeds, and rode back at full gallop
towards the town. They had not proceeded very far, when they came upon the main body of the army, advancing rapidly to
their support. Thus strengthened, they once more returned to the charge, and the rival hosts met together in full
career, with the shock of an earthquake. For a time, victory seemed to hang in the balance, as the mighty press reeled
to and fro under the opposite impulse, and a confused shout rose up towards heaven, in which the war-whoop of the
savage was mingled with the battle-cry of the Christian — a still stranger sound on these sequestered shores. But, in
the end, Castilian valour, or rather Castilian arms and discipline, proved triumphant. The enemy faltered, gave way,
and recoiling step by step, the retreat soon terminated in a rout, and the Spaniards, following up the flying foe,
drove them from the field with such dreadful slaughter, that they made no further attempt to renew the battle.

The victors were now undisputed masters of the city. It was a wealthy place, well stored with Indian fabrics,
cotton, gold, feather-work, and other articles of luxury and use, affording a rich booty to the soldiers. While engaged
in the work of plunder, a party of the enemy, landing from their canoes, fell on some of the stragglers laden with
merchandise, and made four of them prisoners. It created a greater sensation among the troops than if ten times that
number had fallen on the field. Indeed, it was rare that a Spaniard allowed himself to be taken alive. In the present
instance the unfortunate men were taken by surprise. They were hurried to the capital, and soon after sacrificed; when
their arms and legs were cut off, by the command of the ferocious young chief of the Aztecs, and sent round to the
different cities, with the assurance, that this should be the fate of the enemies of Mexico!

From the prisoners taken in the late engagement, Cortes learned that the forces already sent by Guatemozin formed
but a small part of his levies; that his policy was to send detachment after detachment, until the Spaniards, however
victorious they might come off from the contest with each individually, would, in the end, succumb from mere
exhaustion, and thus be vanquished, as it were, by their own victories.

The soldiers having now sacked the city, Cortes did not care to await further assaults from the enemy in his present
quarters. On the fourth morning after his arrival, he mustered his forces on a neighbouring plain. They came many of
them reeling under the weight of their plunder. The general saw this with uneasiness. They were to march, he said,
through a populous country, all in arms to dispute their passage. To secure their safety, they should move as light and
unencumbered as possible. The sight of so much spoil would sharpen the appetite of their enemies, and draw them on,
like a flock of famished eagles after their prey. But his eloquence was lost on his men; who plainly told him they had
a right to the fruit of their victories, and that what they had won with their swords, they knew well enough how to
defend with them.

Seeing them thus bent on their purpose, the general did not care to baulk their inclinations. He ordered the baggage
to the centre, and placed a few of the cavalry over it; dividing the remainder between the front and rear, in which
latter post, as that most exposed to attack, he also stationed his arquebusiers and crossbowmen. Thus prepared, he
resumed his march; but first set fire to the combustible buildings of Xochimilco, in retaliation for the resistance he
had met there. The light of the burning city streamed high into the air, sending its ominous glare far and wide across
the waters, and telling the inhabitants on their margin, that the fatal strangers so long predicted by their oracles
had descended like a consuming flame upon their borders.

Small bodies of the enemy were seen occasionally at a distance, but they did not venture to attack the army on its
march, which before noon brought them to Cojohuacan, a large town about two leagues distant from Xochimilco. One could
scarcely travel that distance in this populous quarter of the valley without meeting with a place of considerable size,
oftentimes the capital of what had formerly been an independent state. The inhabitants, members of different tribes,
and speaking dialects somewhat different, belonged to the same great family of nations who had come from the real or
imaginary region of Aztlan, in the far north-west. Gathered round the shores of their Alpine sea, these petty
communities continued, after their incorporation with the Aztec monarchy, to maintain a spirit of rivalry in their
intercourse with one another, which — as with the cities on the Mediterranean, in the feudal ages — quickened their
mental energies, and raised the Mexican Valley higher in the scale of civilisation than most other quarters of
Anahuac.

The town at which the army had now arrived was deserted by its inhabitants; and Cortes halted two days there to
restore his troops, and give the needful attention to the wounded. He made use of the time to reconnoitre the
neighbouring ground, and taking with him a strong detachment, descended on the causeway which led from Cojohuacan to
the great avenue Iztapalapan. At the point of intersection, called Xoloc, he found a strong barrier or fortification,
behind which a Mexican force was intrenched. Their archery did some mischief to the Spaniards, as they came within
bow-shot. But the latter, marching intrepidly forward in face of the arrowy shower, stormed the works, and, after an
obstinate struggle, drove the enemy from their position. Cortes then advanced some way on the great causeway of
Iztapalapan; but he beheld the further extremity darkened by a numerous array of warriors, and as he did not care to
engage in unnecessary hostilities, especially as his ammunition was nearly exhausted, he fell back and retreated to his
own quarters.

The following day, the army continued its march, taking the road to Tacuba, but a few miles distant. On the way it
experienced much annoyance from straggling parties of the enemy, who, furious at the sight of the booty which the
invaders were bearing away, made repeated attacks on their flanks and rear. Cortes retaliated, as on the former
expedition, by one of their own stratagems, but with less success than before; for, pursuing the retreating enemy too
hotly, he fell with his cavalry into an ambuscade, which they had prepared for him in their turn. He was not yet a
match for their wily tactics. The Spanish cavaliers were enveloped in a moment by their subtle foe, and separated from
the rest of the army. But, spurring on their good steeds, and charging in a solid column together, they succeeded in
breaking through the Indian array, and in making their escape, except two individuals, who fell into the enemy’s hands.
They were the general’s own servants, who had followed him faithfully through the whole campaign, and he was deeply
affected by their loss; rendered the more distressing by the consideration of the dismal fate that awaited them. When
the little band rejoined the army, which had halted in some anxiety at their absence, under the walls of Tacuba, the
soldiers were astonished at the dejected mien of their commander, which too visibly betrayed his emotion.

The sun was still high in the heavens, when they entered the ancient capital of the Tepanecs. The first care of
Cortes was to ascend the principal teocalli, and survey the surrounding country. It was an admirable point of view,
commanding the capital, which lay but little more than a league distant, and its immediate environs. Cortes was
accompanied by Alderete, the treasurer, and some other cavaliers, who had lately joined his banner. The spectacle was
still new to them; and, as they gazed on the stately city, with its broad lake covered with boats and barges hurrying
to and fro, some laden with merchandise, or fruits and vegetables, for the markets of Tenochtitlan, others crowded with
warriors, they could not withhold their admiration at the life and activity of the scene, declaring that nothing but
the hand of Providence could have led their countrymen safe through the heart of this powerful empire.

Tacuba was the point which Cortes had reached on his former expedition round the northern side of the valley. He had
now, therefore, made the entire circuit of the great lake; had reconnoitred the several approaches to the capital, and
inspected with his own eyes the dispositions made on the opposite quarters for its defence. He had no occasion to
prolong his stay in Tacuba, the vicinity of which to Mexico must soon bring on him its whole warlike population.

Early on the following morning, he resumed his march, taking the route pursued in the former expedition, north of
the small lakes. He met with less annoyance from the enemy than on the preceding days; a circumstance owing in some
degree, perhaps, to the state of the weather, which was exceedingly tempestuous. The soldiers, with their garments
heavy with moisture, ploughed their way with difficulty through the miry roads flooded by the torrents. On one
occasion, as their military chronicler informs us, the officers neglected to go the rounds of the camp at night, and
the sentinels to mount guard, trusting to the violence of the storm for their protection. Yet the fate of Narvaez might
have taught them not to put their faith in the elements.

At Acolman, in the Acolhuan territory, they were met by Sandoval, with the friendly cacique of Tezcuco, and several
cavaliers, among whom were some recently arrived from the islands. They cordially greeted their countrymen, and
communicated the tidings that the canal was completed, and that the brigantines, rigged and equipped, were ready to be
launched on the bosom of the lake. There seemed to be no reason, therefore, for longer postponing operations against
Mexico. — With this welcome intelligence, Cortes and his victorious legions made their entry for the last time into the
Acolhuan capital, having consumed just three weeks in completing the circuit of the valley.

Chapter IV 1521

CONSPIRACY IN THE ARMY— BRIGANTINES LAUNCHED— MUSTER OF FORCES— EXECUTION OF XICOTENCATL— MARCH OF
THE ARMY— BEGINNING OF THE SIEGE

AT the very time when Cortes was occupied with reconnoitring the valley, preparatory to his siege of the capital, a
busy faction in Castile was labouring to subvert his authority and defeat his plans of conquest altogether. The fame of
his brilliant exploits had spread not only through the isles, but to Spain and many parts of Europe, where a general
admiration was felt for the invincible energy of the man, who with his single arm as it were, could so long maintain a
contest with the powerful Indian empire. The absence of the Spanish monarch from his dominions, and the troubles of the
country, can alone explain the supine indifference shown by the government to the prosecution of this great enterprise.
To the same causes it may be ascribed, that no action was had in regard to the suits of Velasquez and Narvaez, backed
as they were by so potent an advocate as Bishop Fonseca, president of the Council of the Indies. The reins of
government had fallen into the hands of Adrian of Utrecht, Charles’ preceptor, and afterwards Pope — a man of learning,
and not without sagacity, but slow and timid in his policy, and altogether incapable of that decisive action which
suited the bold genius of his predecessor, Cardinal Ximenes.

In the spring of 1521, however, a number of ordinances passed the Council of the Indies, which threatened an
important innovation in the affairs of New Spain. It was decreed, that the Royal Audience of Hispaniola should abandon
the proceedings already instituted against Narvaez, for his treatment of the commissioner Ayllon; that that unfortunate
commander should be released from his confinement at Vera Cruz; and that an arbitrator should be sent to Mexico, with
authority to investigate the affairs — and conduct of Cortes, and to render ample justice to the governor of Cuba.
There were not wanting persons at court, who looked with dissatisfaction, on these proceedings, as an unworthy requital
of the services of Cortes, and who thought the present moment, at any rate, not the most suitable for taking measures
which might discourage the general, and, perhaps, render him desperate. But the arrogant temper of the Bishop of Burgos
overruled all objections; and the ordinances having been approved by the Regency, were signed by that body, April 11,
1521. A person named Tapia, one of the functionaries of the Audience of St. Domingo, was selected as the new
commissioner to be despatched to Vera Cruz. Fortunately circumstances occurred which postponed the execution of the
design for the present, and permitted Cortes to go forward unmolested in his career of conquest.

But, while thus allowed to remain, for the present at least, in possession of authority, he was assailed by a danger
nearer home, which menaced not only his authority, but his life. This was a conspiracy in the army, of a more dark and
dangerous character than any hitherto formed there. It was set on foot by a common soldier, named Antonio Villafana, a
native of Old Castile, of whom nothing is known but his share in this transaction. He was one of the troop of Narvaez —
that leaven of disaffection, which had remained with the army, swelling with discontent on every light occasion, and
ready at all times to rise into mutiny. They had voluntarily continued in the service after the secession of their
comrades at Tlascala; but it was from the same mercenary hopes with which they had originally embarked in the
expedition — and in these they were destined still to be disappointed. They had little of the true spirit of adventure,
which distinguished the old companions of Cortes; and they found the barren laurels of victory but a sorry recompense
for all their toils and sufferings.

With these men were joined others, who had causes of personal disgust with the general; and others, again, who
looked with disgust on the result of the war. The gloomy fate of their countrymen, who had fallen into the enemy’s
hands, filled them with dismay. They felt themselves the victims of a chimerical spirit in their leader, who, with such
inadequate means, was urging to extremity so ferocious and formidable a foe; and they shrunk with something like
apprehension from thus pursuing the enemy into his own haunts, where he would gather tenfold energy from despair.

These men would have willingly abandoned the enterprise, and returned to Cuba; but how could they do it? Cortes had
control over the whole route from the city to the sea-coast; and not a vessel could leave its ports without his
warrant. Even if he were put out of the way, there were others, his principal officers, ready to step into his place,
and avenge the death of their commander. It was necessary to embrace these, also, in the scheme of destruction; and it
was proposed, therefore, together with Cortes, to assassinate Sandoval, Olid, Alvarado, and two or three others most
devoted to his interests. The conspirators would then raise the cry of liberty, and doubted not that they should be
joined by the greater part of the army, or enough, at least, to enable them to work their own pleasure. They proposed
to offer the command, on Cortes’ death, to Francisco Verdugo, a brother-inlaw of Velasquez. He was an honourable
cavalier, and not privy to their design. But they had little doubt that he would acquiesce in the command, thus, in a
manner, forced upon him, and this would secure them the protection of the governor of Cuba, who, indeed, from his own
hatred of Cortes, would be disposed to look with a lenient eye on their proceedings.

The conspirators even went so far as to appoint the subordinate officers, an alguacil mayor, in place of Sandoval, a
quarter-master-general to succeed Olid, and some others. The time fixed for the execution of the plot was soon after
the return of Cortes from his expedition. A parcel, pretended to have come by a fresh arrival from Castile, was to be
presented to him while at table, and, when he was engaged in breaking open the letters, the conspirators were to fall
on him and his officers, and despatch them with their poniards. Such was the iniquitous scheme devised for the
destruction of Cortes and the expedition. But a conspiracy, to be successful, especially when numbers are concerned,
should allow but little time to elapse between its conception and its execution.

On the day previous to that appointed for the perpetration of the deed, one, of the party, feeling a natural
compunction at the commission of the crime, went to the general’s quarters, and solicited a private interview with him.
He threw himself at his commander’s feet, and revealed all the particulars relating to the conspiracy, adding, that in
Villafana’s possession a paper would be found, containing the names of his accomplices. Cortes, thunderstruck at the
disclosure, lost not a moment in profiting by it. He sent for Alvarado, Sandoval, and other officers marked out by the
conspirator, and, after communicating the affair to them, went at once with them to Villafana’s quarters, attended by
four alguacils.

They found him in conference with three or four friends, who were instantly taken from the apartment, and placed in
custody. Villafana, confounded at this sudden apparition of his commander, had barely time to snatch a paper,
containing the signatures of the confederates, from his bosom, and attempt to swallow it. But Cortes arrested his arm,
and seized the paper. As he glanced his eye rapidly over the fatal list, he was much moved at finding there the names
of more than one who had some claim to consideration in the army. He tore the scroll in pieces, and ordered Villafana,
to be taken into custody. He was immediately tried by a military court hastily got together, at which the general
himself presided. There seems to have been no doubt of the man’s guilt. He was condemned to death, and, after allowing
him time for confession and absolution, the sentence was executed by hanging him from the window of his own
quarters.

Those ignorant of the affair were astonished at the spectacle; and the remaining conspirators were filled with
consternation when they saw that their plot was detected, and anticipated a similar fate for themselves. But they were
mistaken. Cortes pursued the matter no further. A little reflection convinced him, that to do so would involve him in
the most disagreeable, and even dangerous, perplexities. And, however much the parties implicated in so foul a deed
might deserve death, he could ill afford the loss even of the guilty, with his present limited numbers. He resolved,
therefore, to content himself with the punishment of the ringleader.

He called his troops together, and briefly explained to them the nature of the crime for which Villafana had
suffered. He had made no confession, he said, and the guilty secret had perished with him. He then expressed his
sorrow, that any should have been found in their ranks capable of so base an act, and stated his own unconsciousness of
having wronged any individual among them; but, if he had done so, he invited them frankly to declare it, as he was most
anxious to afford them all the redress in his power. But there was no one of his audience, whatever might be his
grievances, who cared to enter his complaint at such a moment; least of all were the conspirators willing to do so, for
they were too happy at having, as they fancied, escaped detection, to stand forward now in the ranks of the
malcontents. The affair passed off, therefore, without further consequences.

As was stated at the close of the last chapter, the Spaniards, on their return to quarters, found the construction
of the brigantines completed, and that they were fully rigged, equipped, and ready for service. The canal, also, after
having occupied eight thousand men for nearly two months, was finished.

It was a work of great labour; for it extended half a league in length, was twelve feet wide, and as many deep. The
sides were strengthened by palisades of wood, or solid masonry. At intervals dams and locks were constructed, and part
of the opening was through the hard rock. By this avenue the brigantines might now be safely introduced on the
lake.

Cortes was resolved that so auspicious an event should be celebrated with due solemnity. On the 28th of April, the
troops were drawn up under arms, and the whole population of Tezcuco assembled to witness the ceremony. Mass was
performed, and every man in the army, together with the general, confessed and received the sacrament. Prayers were
offered up by Father Olmedo, and a benediction invoked on the little navy, the first worthy of the name ever launched
on American waters. The signal was given by the firing of a cannon, when the vessels, dropping down the canal one after
another, reached the lake in good order; and as they emerged on its ample bosom, with music sounding, and the royal
ensign of Castile proudly floating from their masts, a shout of admiration arose from the countless multitudes of
spectators, which mingled with the roar of artillery and musketry from the vessels and the shore! It was a novel
spectacle to the simple natives; and they gazed with wonder on the gallant ships, which, fluttering like sea-birds on
their snowy pinions, bounded lightly over the waters, as if rejoicing in their element. It touched the stern hearts of
the Conquerors with a glow of rapture, and, as they felt that Heaven had blessed their undertaking, they broke forth,
by general accord, into the noble anthem of the Te Deum. But there was no one of that vast multitude for whom the sight
had deeper interest than their commander. For he looked on it as the work, in a manner, of his own hands; and his bosom
swelled with exultation, as he felt he was now possessed of a power strong enough to command the lake, and to shake the
haughty towers of Tenochtitlan.

The general’s next step was to muster his forces in the great square of the capital. He found they amounted to
eighty-seven horse, and eight hundred and eighteen foot, of which one hundred and eighteen were arquebusiers and
crossbowmen. He had three large field-pieces of iron, and fifteen lighter guns or falconets of brass. The heavier
cannon had been transported from Vera Cruz to Tezcuco, a little while before, by the faithful Tlascalans. He was well
supplied with shot and balls, with about ten hundredweight of powder, and fifty thousand copper-headed arrows, made
after a pattern furnished by him to the natives. The number and appointments of the army much exceeded what they had
been at any time since the flight from Mexico, and showed the good effects of the late arrivals from the Islands.
Indeed, taking the fleet into the account, Cortes had never before been in so good a condition for carrying on his
operations. Three hundred of the men were sent to man the vessels, thirteen, or rather twelve, in number, one of the
smallest having been found, on trial, too dull a sailer to be of service. Half of the crews were required to navigate
the ships. There was some difficulty in finding hands for this, as the men were averse to the employment. Cortes
selected those who came from Palos, Moguer, and other maritime towns, and notwithstanding their frequent claims of
exemption, as hidalgos, from this menial occupation, he pressed them into the service. Each vessel mounted a piece of
heavy ordnance, and was placed under an officer of respectability, to whom Cortes gave a general code of instructions
for the government of the little navy, of which he proposed to take the command in person.

He had already sent to his Indian confederates, announcing his purpose of immediately laying siege to Mexico, and
called on them to furnish their promised levies within the space of ten days at furthest. The Tlascalans he ordered to
join him at Tezcuco; the others were to assemble at Chalco, a more convenient place of rendezvous for the operations in
the southern quarter of the valley. The Tlascalans arrived within the time prescribed, led by the younger Xicotencatl,
supported by Chichemecatl, the same doughty warrior who had convoyed the brigantines to Tezcuco. They came fifty
thousand strong, according to Cortes, making a brilliant show with their military finery, and marching proudly forward
under the great national banner, emblazoned with a spread eagle, the arms of the republic. With as blithe and manly a
step as if they were going to the battle-ground, they defiled through the gates of the capital, making its walls ring
with the friendly shouts of “Castile and Tlascala.”

The observations which Cortes had made in his late tour of reconnaissance had determined him to begin the siege by
distributing his forces into three separate camps, which he proposed to establish at the extremities of the principal
causeways. By this arrangement the troops would be enabled to move in concert on the capital, and be in the best
position to intercept its supplies from the surrounding country. The first of these points was Tacuba, commanding the
fatal causeway of the noche triste. This was assigned to Pedro de Alvarado, with a force consisting, according to
Cortes’ own statement, of thirty horse, one hundred and sixty-eight Spanish infantry, and five and twenty thousand
Tlascalans. Christoval de Olid had command of the second army, of much the same magnitude, which was to take up its
position at Cojohuacan, the city, it will be remembered, overlooking the short causeway connected with that of
Iztapalapan. Gonzalo de Sandoval had charge of the third division, of equal strength with each of the two preceding,
but which was to draw its Indian levies from the forces assembled at Chalco. This officer was to march on Iztapalapan,
and complete the destruction of that city, begun by Cortes soon after his entrance into the valley. It was too
formidable a post to remain in the rear of the army. The general intended to support the attack with his brigantines,
after which the subsequent movements of Sandoval would be determined by circumstances.

Having announced his intended dispositions to his officers, the Spanish commander called his troops together, and
made one of those brief and stirring harangues with which he was wont on great occasions to kindle the hearts of his
soldiery. “I have taken the last step,” he said; “I have brought you to the goal for which you have so long panted. A
few days will place you before the gates of Mexico — the capital from which you were driven with so much ignominy. But
we now go forward under the smiles of Providence. Does any one doubt it? Let him but compare our present condition with
that in which we found ourselves not twelve months since, when, broken and dispirited, we sought shelter within the
walls of Tlascala; nay, with that in which we were but a few months since, when we took up our quarters in Tezcuco.
Since that time our strength has been nearly doubled. We are fighting the battles of the Faith, fighting for our
honour, for riches, for revenge. I have brought you face to face with your foe. It is for you to do the rest.”

The address of the bold chief was answered by the thundering acclamations of his followers, who declared that every
man would do his duty under such a leader; and they only asked to be led against the enemy. Cortes then caused the
regulations for the army, published at Tlascala, to be read again to the troops, with the assurance that they should be
enforced to the letter.

It was arranged that the Indian forces should precede the Spanish by a day’s march, and should halt for their
confederates on the borders of the Tezcucan territory. A circumstance occurred soon after their departure, which gave
bad augury for the future. A quarrel had arisen in the camp at Tezcuco between a Spanish soldier and a Tlascalan chief,
in which the latter was badly hurt. He was sent back to Tlascala, and the matter was hushed up, that it might not reach
the ears of the general, who, it was known, would not pass it over lightly. Xicotencatl was a near relative of the
injured party, and on the first day’s halt, he took the opportunity to leave the army, with a number of his followers,
and set off for Tlascala. Other causes are assigned for his desertion. It is certain that, from the first, he looked on
the expedition with an evil eye, and had predicted that no good would come of it. He came into it with reluctance, as,
indeed, he detested the Spaniards in his heart.

His partner in the command instantly sent information of the affair to the Spanish general, still encamped at
Tezcuco. Cortes, who saw at once the mischievous consequences of this defection at such a time, detached a party of
Tlascalan and Tezcucan Indians after the fugitive, with instructions to prevail on him, if possible, to return to his
duty. They overtook him on the road, and remonstrated with him on his conduct, contrasting it with that of his
countrymen generally, and of his own father in particular, the steady friend of the white men. “So much the worse,”
replied the chieftain; “if they had taken my counsel, they would never have become the dupes of the perfidious
strangers.” Finding their remonstrances received only with anger or contemptuous taunts, the emissaries returned
without accomplishing their object.

Cortes did not hesitate on the course he was to pursue. “Xicotencatl,” he said, “had always been the enemy of the
Spaniards, first in the field, and since in the council-chamber; openly, or in secret, still the same — their
implacable enemy. There was no use in parleying with the false-hearted Indian.” He instantly despatched a small body of
horse with an alguacil to arrest the chief, wherever he might be found, even though it were in the streets of Tlascala,
and to bring him back to Tezcuco. At the same time he sent information of Xicotencatl’s proceedings to the Tlascalan
senate, adding, that desertion among the Spaniards was punished with death.

The emissaries of Cortes punctually fulfilled his orders. They arrested the fugitive chief — whether in Tlascala or
in its neighbourhood is uncertain — and brought him a prisoner to Tezcuco, where a high gallows, erected in the great
square, was prepared for his reception. He was instantly led to the place of execution; his sentence and the cause for
which he suffered were publicly proclaimed, and the unfortunate cacique expiated his offence by the vile death of a
malefactor. His ample property, consisting of lands, slaves, and some gold, was all confiscated to the Castilian
crown.

Thus perished Xicotencatl, in the flower of his age — as dauntless a warrior as ever led an Indian army to battle.
He was the first chief who successfully resisted the arms of the invaders; and, had the natives of Anahuac generally
been animated with a spirit like his, Cortes would probably never have set foot in the capital of Montezuma. He was
gifted with a clearer insight into the future than his countrymen; for he saw that the European was an enemy far more
to be dreaded than the Aztec. Yet, when he consented to fight under the banner of the white men, he had no right to
desert it, and he incurred the penalty prescribed by the code of savage as well as of civilised nations. It is said,
indeed, that the Tlascalan senate aided in apprehending him, having previously answered Cortes, that his crime was
punishable with death by their own laws. It was a bold act, however, thus to execute him in the midst of his people;
for he was a powerful chief, heir to one of the four seigniories of the republic. His chivalrous qualities made him
popular, especially with the younger part of his countrymen; and his garments were torn into shreds at his death, and
distributed as sacred relics among them. Still, no resistance was offered to the execution of the sentence, and no
commotion followed it. He was the only Tlascalan who ever swerved from his loyalty to the Spaniards.

According to the plan of operations settled by Cortes, Sandoval, with his division, was to take a southern
direction; while Alvarado and Olid would make the northern circuit of the lakes. These two cavaliers, after getting
possession of Tacuba, were to advance to Chapoltepec, and demolish the great aqueduct there, which supplied Mexico with
water. On the 10th of May, they commenced their march; but at Acolman, where they halted for the night, a dispute arose
between the soldiers of the two divisions, respecting their quarters. From words they came to blows, and a defiance was
even exchanged between the leaders, who entered into the angry feelings of their followers. Intelligence of this was
soon communicated to Cortes, who sent at once to the fiery chiefs, imploring them, by their regard for him and the
common cause, to lay aside their differences, which must end in their own ruin, and that of the expedition. His
remonstrance prevailed, at least, so far as to establish a show of reconciliation between the parties. But was not a
man to forget, or easily to forgive; and Alvarado, though frank and liberal, had an impatient temper, much more easily
excited than appeased. They were never afterwards friends.

The Spaniards met with no opposition on their march. The principal towns were all abandoned by the inhabitants, who
had gone to strengthen the garrison of Mexico, or taken refuge with their families among the mountains. Tacuba was in
like manner deserted, and the troops once more established themselves in their old quarters in the lordly city of the
Tepanecs.

Their first undertaking was, to cut off the pipes that conducted the water from the royal streams of Chapoltepec to
feed the numerous tanks and fountains which sparkled-in the courtyards of the capital. The aqueduct, partly constructed
of brickwork, and partly of stone and mortar, was raised on a strong, though narrow, dike, which transported it across
an arm of the lake; and the whole work was one of the most pleasing monuments of Mexican civilisation. The Indians,
well aware of its importance, had stationed a large body of troops for its protection. A battle followed, in which both
sides suffered considerably, but the Spaniards were victorious. A part of the aqueduct was demolished, and during the
siege no water found its way again to the capital through this channel.

On the following day the combined forces descended on the fatal causeway, to make themselves masters, if possible,
of the nearest bridge. They found the dike covered with a swarm of warriors, as numerous as on the night of their
disaster, while the surface of the lake was dark with the multitude of canoes. The intrepid Christians strove to
advance under a perfect hurricane of missiles from the water and the land, but they made slow progress. Barricades
thrown across the causeway embarrassed the cavalry, and rendered it nearly useless. The sides of the Indian boats were
fortified with bulwarks, which shielded the crews from the arquebuses and crossbows; and, when the warriors on the dike
were hard pushed by the pikemen, they threw themselves fearlessly into the water, as if it were their native element,
and re-appearing along the sides of the dike, shot off their arrows and javelins with fatal execution. After a long and
obstinate struggle, the Christians were compelled to fall back on their own quarters with disgrace, and — including the
allies — with nearly as much damage as they had inflicted on the enemy. Olid, disgusted with the result of the
engagement, inveighed against his companion, as having involved them in it by his wanton temerity, and drew off his
forces the next morning to his own station at Cojohuacan.

The camps, separated by only two leagues, maintained an easy communication with each other. They found abundant
employment in foraging the neighbouring country for provisions, and in repelling the active sallies of the enemy; on
whom they took their revenge by cutting off his supplies. But their own position was precarious, and they looked with
impatience for the arrival of the brigantines under Cortes. It was in the latter part of May that took up his quarters
at Cojohuacan; and from that time may be dated the commencement of the siege of Mexico.

Chapter V 1521

INDIAN FLOTILLA DEFEATED— THE CAUSEWAYS OCCUPIED— DESPERATE ASSAULTS— FIRING OF THE PALACES— SPIRIT
OF THE BESIEGED— BARRACKS FOR THE TROOPS

NO sooner had Cortes received intelligence that his two officers had established themselves in their respective
posts, than he ordered Sandoval to march on Iztapalapan. The cavalier’s route led him through a country for the most
part friendly; and at Chalco his little body of Spaniards was swelled by the formidable muster of Indian levies, who
awaited there his approach. After this junction, he continued his march without opposition till he arrived before the
hostile city, under whose walls he found a large force drawn up to receive him. A battle followed, and the natives,
after maintaining their ground sturdily for some time, were compelled to give way, and to seek refuge either on the
water or in that part of the town which hung over it. The remainder was speedily occupied by the Spaniards.

Meanwhile Cortes had set sail with his flotilla, intending to support his lieutenant’s attack by water. On drawing
near the southern shore of the lake, he passed under the shadow of an insulated peak, since named from him the “Rock of
the Marquess.” It was held by a body of Indians, who saluted the fleet, as it passed, with showers of stones and
arrows. Cortes, resolving to punish their audacity, and to clear the lake of his troublesome enemy, instantly landed
with a hundred and fifty of his followers. He placed himself at their head, scaled the steep ascent, in the face of a
driving storm of missiles, and, reaching the summit, put the garrison to the sword. There was a number of women and
children, also, gathered in the place, whom he spared.

On the top of the eminence was a blazing beacon, serving to notify to the inhabitants of the capital when the
Spanish fleet weighed anchor. Before Cortes had regained his brigantine, the canoes and piraguas of the enemy had left
the harbours of Mexico, and were seen darkening the lake for many a rood. There were several hundred of them, all
crowded with warriors, and advancing rapidly by means of their oars over the calm bosom of the waters.

Cortes, who regarded his fleet, to use his own language, as “the key of the war,” felt the importance of striking a
decisive blow in the first encounter with the enemy. It was with chagrin, therefore, that he found his sails rendered
useless by the want of wind. He calmly waited the approach of the Indian squadron, which, however, lay on their oars,
at something more than musket-shot distance, as if hesitating to encounter these leviathans of their waters. At this
moment, a light air from land rippled the surface of the lake; it gradually freshened into a breeze, and Cortes, taking
advantage of the friendly succour, which he may be excused, under all the circumstances, for regarding as especially
sent him by Heaven, extended his line of battle and bore down, under full press of canvas, on the enemy.

The latter no sooner encountered the bows of their formidable opponents, than they were overturned and sent to the
bottom by the shock, or so much damaged that they speedily filled and sank. The water was covered with the wreek of
broken canoes, and with the bodies of men struggling for life in the waves, and vainly imploring their companions to
take them on board their overcrowded vessels. The Spanish fleet, as it dashed through the mob of boats, sent off its
volleys to the right and left with a terrible effect, completing the discomfiture of the Aztecs. The latter made no
attempt at resistance, scarcely venturing a single flight of arrows, but strove with all their strength to regain the
port from which they had so lately issued. They were no match in the chase, any more than in the fight, for their
terrible antagonist, who, borne on the wings of the wind, careered to and fro at his pleasure, dealing death widely
around him, and making the shores ring with the thunders of his ordnance. A few only of the Indian flotilla succeeded
in recovering the port, and, gliding up the canals, found a shelter in the bosom of the city, where the heavier burden
of the brigantines made it impossible for them to follow. This victory, more complete than even the sanguine temper of
Cortes had prognosticated, proved the superiority of the Spaniards, and left them, henceforth, undisputed masters of
the Aztec sea.

It was nearly dusk when the squadron, coasting along the great southern causeway, anchored off the point of
junction, called Xoloc, where the branch from Cojohuacan meets the principal dike. The avenue widened at this point, so
as to afford room for two towers, or turreted temples, built of stone, and surrounded by walls of the same material,
which presented altogether a position of some strength, and, at the present moment, was garrisoned by a body of Aztecs.
They were not numerous; and Cortes, landing with his soldiers, succeeded without much difficulty in dislodging the
enemy, and in getting possession of the works.

It seems to have been originally the general’s design to take up his own quarters with at Cojohuacan. But, if so, he
now changed his purpose, and wisely fixed on this spot, as the best position for his encampment. It was but half a
league distant from the capital; and, while it commanded its great southern avenue, had a direct communication with the
garrison at Cojohuacan, through which he might receive supplies from the surrounding country. Here, then, he determined
to establish his head-quarters. He at once caused his heavy iron cannon to be transferred from the brigantines to the
causeway, and sent orders to to join him with half his force, while Sandoval was instructed to abandon his present
quarters, and advance to Cojohuacan, whence he was to detach fifty picked men of his infantry to the camp of Cortes.
Having made these arrangements, the general busily occupied himself with strengthening the works at Xoloc, and putting
them in the best posture of defence.

The two principal avenues to Mexico, those on the south and the west, were now occupied by the Christians. There
still remained a third, the great dike of Tepejacac, on the north, which, indeed, taking up the principal street, that
passed in a direct line through the heart of the city, might be regarded as a continuation of the dike of Iztapalapan.
By this northern route a means of escape was still left open to the besieged, and they availed themselves of it, at
present, to maintain their communications with the country, and to supply themselves with provisions. Alvarado, who
observed this from his station at Tacuba, advised his commander of it, and the latter instructed Sandoval to take up
his position on the causeway. That officer, though suffering at the time from a severe wound received from a lance in
one of the late skirmishes, hastened to obey; and thus, by shutting up its only communication with the surrounding
country, completed the blockade of the capital.

But Cortes was not content to wait patiently the effects of a dilatory blockade, which might exhaust the patience of
his allies, and his own resources. He determined to support it by such active assaults on the city as should still
further distress the besieged, and hasten the hour of surrender. For this purpose he ordered a simultaneous attack, by
the two commanders at the other stations, on the quarters nearest their encampments.

On the day appointed, his forces were under arms with the dawn. Mass, as usual, was performed; and the Indian
confederates, as they listened with grave attention to the stately and imposing service, regarded with undisguised
admiration the devotional reverence shown by the Christians, whom, in their simplicity, they looked upon as little less
than divinities themselves. The Spanish infantry marched in the van, led on by Cortes, attended by a number of
cavaliers, dismounted like himself. They had not moved far upon the causeway, when they were brought to a stand by one
of the open breaches, that had formerly been traversed by a bridge. On the further side a solid rampart of stone and
lime had been erected, and behind this a strong body of Aztecs were posted, who discharged on the Spaniards, as they
advanced, a thick volley of arrows. The latter vainly endeavoured to dislodge them with their firearms and crossbows;
they were too well secured behind their defences.

Cortes then ordered two of the brigantines, which had kept along, one on each side of the causeway, in order to
co-operate with the army, to station themselves so as to enfilade the position occupied by the enemy. Thus placed
between two well-directed fires, the Indians were compelled to recede. The soldiers on board the vessels, springing to
land, bounded like deer up the sides of the dike. They were soon followed by their countrymen under Cortes, who,
throwing themselves into the water, swam the undefended chasm, and joined in pursuit of the enemy. The Mexicans fell
back, however, in something like order, till they reached another opening in the dike, like the former, dismantled of
its bridge, and fortified in the same manner by a bulwark of stone, behind which the retreating Aztecs, swimming across
the chasm, and reinforced by fresh bodies of their countrymen, again took shelter.

They made good their post till, again assailed by the cannonade from the brigantines, they were compelled to give
way. In this manner breach after breach was carried, and, at every fresh instance of success, a shout went up from the
crews of the vessels, which, answered by the long files of the Spaniards and their confederates on the causeway, made
the valley echo to its borders.

Cortes had now reached the end of the great avenue, where it entered the suburbs. There he halted to give time for
the rearguard to come up with him. It was detained by the labour of filling up the breaches in such a manner as to make
a practicable passage for the artillery and horse, and to secure one for the rest of the army on its retreat. This
important duty was intrusted to the allies, who executed it by tearing down the ramparts on the margins, and throwing
them into the chasms, and, when this was not sufficient — for the water was deep around the southern causeway — by
dislodging the great stones and rubbish from the dike itself, which was broad enough to admit of it, and adding them to
the pile, until it was raised above the level of the water.

The street on which the Spaniards now entered, was the great avenue that intersected the town from north to south,
and the same by which they had first visited the capital. It was broad and perfectly straight, and, in the distance,
dark masses of warriors might be seen gathering to the support of their countrymen, who were prepared to dispute the
further progress of the Spaniards. The sides were lined with buildings, the terraced roofs of which were also crowded
with combatants, who, as the army advanced, poured down a pitiless storm of missiles on their heads, which glanced
harmless, indeed, from the coat of mail, but too often found their way through the more common escaupil of the soldier,
already gaping with many a ghastly rent. Cortes, to rid himself of this annoyance for the future, ordered his Indian
pioneers to level the principal buildings, as they advanced; in which work of demolition, no less than in the repair of
the breaches, they proved of inestimable service.

The Spaniards, meanwhile, were steadily, but slowly, advancing, as the enemy recoiled before the rolling fire of
musketry, though turning at intervals to discharge their javelins and arrows against their pursuers. In this way they
kept along the great street, until their course was interrupted by a wide ditch or canal, once traversed by a bridge,
of which only a few planks now remained. These were broken by the Indians the moment they had crossed, and a formidable
array of spears were instantly seen bristling over the summit of a solid rampart of stone, which protected the opposite
side of the canal. Cortes was no longer supported by his brigantines, which the shallowness of the canals prevented
from penetrating into the suburbs. He brought forward his arquebusiers, who, protected by the targets of their
comrades, opened a fire on the enemy. But the balls fell harmless from the bulwarks of stone; while the assailants
presented but too easy a mark to their opponents.

The general then caused the heavy guns to be brought up, and opened a lively cannonade, which soon cleared a breach
in the works, through which the musketeers and crossbowmen poured in their volleys thick as hail. The Indians now gave
way in disorder after having held their antagonists at bay for two hours. The latter, jumping into the shallow water,
scaled the opposite bank without further resistance, and drove the enemy along the street towards the square, where the
sacred pyramid reared its colossal bulk high over the other edifices of the city.

It was a spot too familiar to the Spaniards. On one side stood the palace of Axacayatl, their old quarters, the
scene to many of them of so much suffering. Opposite was the pile of low, irregular, buildings, once the residence of
the unfortunate Montezuma; while the third side of the square was flanked by the Coatepantli, or Wall of Serpents,
which encompassed the great teocalli with its little city of holy edifices. The Spaniards halted at the entrance of the
square, as if oppressed, and for a moment overpowered, by the bitter recollections that crowded on their minds. But
their intrepid leader, impatient at their hesitation, loudly called on them to advance before the Aztecs had time to
rally; and grasping his target in one hand, and waving his sword high above his head with the other, he cried his
war-cry of “St. Jago,” and led them at once against the enemy.

The Mexicans, intimidated by the presence of their detested foe, who, in spite of all their efforts had again forced
his way into the heart of their city, made no further resistance, but retreated, or rather fled, for refuge into the
sacred inclosure of the teocalli, where the numerous buildings scattered over its ample area afforded many good points
of defence. A few priests, clad in their usual wild and blood-stained vestments, were to be seen lingering on the
terraces which wound round the stately sides of the pyramid, chanting hymns in honour of their god, and encouraging the
warriors below to battle bravely for his altars.

The Spaniards poured through the open gates into the area, and a small party rushed up the winding corridors to its
summit. No vestige now remained there of the Cross, or of any other symbol of the pure faith to which it had been
dedicated. A new effigy of the Aztec war-god had taken the place of the one demolished by the Christians, and raised
its fantastic and hideous form in the same niche which had been occupied by its predecessor. The Spaniards soon tore
away its golden mask and the rich jewels with which it was bedizened, and hurling the struggling priests down the sides
of the pyramid, made the best of their way to their comrades in the area. It was full time.

The Aztecs, indignant at the sacrilegious outrage perpetrated before their eyes, and gathering courage from the
inspiration of the place, under the very presence of their deities, raised a yell of horror and vindictive fury, as,
throwing themselves into something like order, they sprang by a common impulse on the Spaniards. The latter, who had
halted near the entrance, though taken by surprise, made an effort to maintain their position at the gateway. But in
vain; for the headlong rush of the assailants drove them at once into the square, where they were attacked by other
bodies of Indians, pouring in from the neighbouring streets. Broken, and losing their presence of mind, the troops made
no attempt to rally, but, crossing the square, and abandoning the cannon planted there to the enemy, they hurried down
the great street of Iztapalapan. Here they were soon mingled with the allies, who choked up the way, and who, catching
the panic of the Spaniards, increased the confusion, while the eyes of the fugitives, blinded by the missiles that
rained on them from the azoteas, were scarcely capable of distinguishing friend from foe. In vain Cortes endeavoured to
stay the torrent, and to restore order. His voice was drowned in the wild uproar, as he was swept away, like driftwood,
by the fury of the current.

All seemed to be lost; — when suddenly sounds were heard in an adjoining street, like the distant tramp of horses
galloping rapidly over the pavement. They drew nearer and nearer, and a body of cavalry soon emerged on the great
square. Though but a handful in number, they plunged boldly into the thick of the enemy. We have often had occasion to
notice the superstitious dread entertained by the Indians of the horse and his rider. And, although the long residence
of the cavalry in the capital had familiarised the natives, in some measure, with their presence, so long a time had
now elapsed since they had beheld them, that all their former mysterious terrors revived in full force; and, when thus
suddenly assailed in flank by the formidable apparition, they were seized with a panic, and fell into confusion. It
soon spread to the leading files, and Cortes, perceiving his advantage, turned with the rapidity of lightning, and, at
this time supported by his followers, succeeded in driving the enemy with some loss back into the inclosure.

It was now the hour of vespers, and, as night must soon overtake them, he made no further attempt to pursue his
advantage. Ordering the trumpets, therefore, to sound a retreat, he drew off his forces in good order, taking with him
the artillery which had been abandoned in the square. The allies first went off the ground, followed by the Spanish
infantry, while the rear was protected by the horse, thus reversing the order of march on their entrance. The Aztecs
hung on the closing files, and though driven back by frequent charges of the cavalry, still followed in the distance,
shooting off their ineffectual missiles, and filling the air with wild cries and howling, like a herd of ravenous
wolves disappointed of their prey. It was late before the army reached its quarters at Xoloc.

Cortes had been well supported by Alvarado and Sandoval in this assault on the city; though neither of these
commanders had penetrated the suburbs, deterred, perhaps, by the difficulties of the passage, which, in Alvarado’s
case, were greater than those presented to Cortes, from the greater number of breaches with which the dike in his
quarter was intersected. Something was owing, too, to the want of brigantines, until Cortes supplied the deficiency by
detaching half of his little navy to the support of his officers. Without their co-operation, however, the general
himself could not have advanced so far, nor, perhaps, have succeeded at all in setting foot within the city. The
success of this assault spread consternation, not only among the Mexicans, but their vassals, as they saw that the
formidable preparations for defence were to avail little against the white man, who had so soon, in spite of them,
forced his way into the very heart of the capital. Several of the neighbouring places, in consequence, now showed a
willingness to shake off their allegiance, and claimed the protection of the Spaniards. Among these, were the territory
of Xochimilco, so roughly treated by the invaders, and some tribes of Otomies, a rude but valiant people, who dwelt on
the western confines of the valley. Their support was valuable, not so much from the additional reinforcement which it
brought, as from the greater security it gave to the army, whose outposts were perpetually menaced by these warlike
barbarians.

Thus strengthened, Cortes prepared to make another attack upon the capital, and that before it should have time to
recover from the former. Orders were given to his lieutenants on the other causeways, to march at the same time, and
co-operate with him, as before, in the assault. It was conducted in precisely the same manner as on the previous entry,
the infantry taking the van, and the allies and cavalry following. But, to the great dismay of the Spaniards, they
found two-thirds of the breaches restored to their former state, and the stones and other materials, with which they
had been stopped, removed by the indefatigable enemy. They were again obliged to bring up the cannon, the brigantines
ran alongside, and the enemy was dislodged, and driven from post to post, in the same manner as on the preceding
attack. In short, the whole work was to be done over again. It was not till an hour after noon that the army had won a
footing in the suburbs.

Here their progress was not so difficult as before; for the buildings from the terraces of which they had
experienced the most annoyance had been swept away. Still it was only step by step that they forced a passage in face
of the Mexican militia, who disputed their advance with the same spirit as before. Cortes, who would willingly have
spared the inhabitants, if he could have brought them to terms, saw them with regret, as he says, thus desperately bent
on a war of extermination. He conceived that there would be no way more likely to affect their minds, than by
destroying at once some of the principal edifices, which they were accustomed to venerate as the pride and ornament of
the city.

Marching into the great square, he selected, as the first to be destroyed, the old palace of Axayacatl, his former
barracks. The ample range of low buildings was, it is true, constructed of stone; but the interior, as well as
outworks, its turrets, and roofs, were of wood. The Spaniards, whose associations with the pile were of so gloomy a
character, sprang to the work of destruction with a satisfaction like that which the French mob may have felt in the
demolition of the Bastile. Torches and firebrands were thrown about in all directions; the lower parts of the building
were speedily on fire, which, running along the inflammable bangings and woodwork of the interior, rapidly spread to
the second floor. There the element took freer range, and, before it was visible from without, sent up from every
aperture and crevice a dense column of vapour, that hung like a funeral pall over the city. This was dissipated by a
bright sheet of flame, which enveloped all the upper regions of the vast pile, till, the supporters giving way, the
wide range of turreted chambers fell, amidst clouds of dust and ashes, with an appalling crash, that for a moment
stayed the Spaniards in the work of devastation.

The Aztecs gazed with inexpressible horror on this destruction of the venerable abode of their monarchs, and of the
monuments of their luxury and splendour. Their rage was exasperated almost to madness, as they beheld their hated foes,
the Tlascalans, busy in the work of desolation, and aided by the Tezcucans, their own allies, and not unfrequently
their kinsmen. They vented their fury in bitter execrations, especially on the young prince Ixtlilxochitl, who,
marching side by side with Cortes, took his full share in the dangers of the day. The warriors from the housetops
poured the most approbrious epithets on him as he passed, denouncing him as false-hearted traitor; false to his country
and his blood — reproaches not altogether unmerited, as his kinsman, who chronicles the circumstance, candidly
confesses. He gave little heed to their taunts, however, holding on his way with the dogged resolution of one true to
the cause in which he was embarked; and, when he entered the great square, he grappled with the leader of the Aztec
forces, wrenched a lance from his grasp, won by the latter from the Christians, and dealt him a blow with his mace, or
maquahuitl, which brought him lifeless to the ground.

The Spanish commander, having accomplished the work of destruction, sounded a retreat, sending on the Indian allies,
who blocked up the way before him. The Mexicans, maddened by their losses, in wild transports of fury hung close on his
rear, and though driven back by the cavalry, still returned, throwing themselves desperately under the horses, striving
to tear the riders from their saddles, and content to throw away their own lives for one blow at their enemy.
Fortunately the greater part of their militia was engaged with the assailants on the opposite quarters of the city;
but, thus crippled, they pushed the Spaniards under Cortes so vigorously, that few reached the camp that night without
bearing on their bodies some token of the desperate conflict.

On the following day, and, indeed, on several days following, the general repeated his assaults with as little care
for repose, as if he and his men had been made of iron. On one occasion he advanced some way down the street of Tacuba,
in which he carried three of the bridges, desirous, if possible, to open a communication with Alvarado, posted on the
contiguous causeway. But the Spaniards in that quarter had not penetrated beyond the suburbs, still impeded by the
severe character of the ground, and wanting, it may be, somewhat of that fiery impetuosity which the soldier feels who
fights under the eye of his chief.

In each of these assaults, the breaches were found more or less restored to their original state by the pertinacious
Mexicans, and the materials, which had been deposited in them with so much labour, again removed. It may seem strange,
that Cortes did not take measures to guard against the repetition of an act which caused so much delay and
embarrassment to his operations. He notices this in his letter to the emperor, in which he says that to do so would
have required, either that he should have established his quarters in the city itself, which would have surrounded him
with enemies, and cut off his communications with the country; or that he should have posted a sufficient guard of
Spaniards — for the natives were out of the question — to protect the breaches by night, a duty altogether beyond the
strength of men engaged in so arduous a service through the day.

Yet this was the course adopted by Alvarado; who stationed, at night, a guard of forty soldiers for the defence of
the opening nearest to the enemy. This was relieved by a similar detachment in a few hours, and this again by a third,
the two former still lying on their post; so that, on an alarm, a body of one hundred and twenty soldiers was ready on
the spot to repel an attack. Sometimes, indeed, the whole division took up their bivouac in the neighbourhood of the
breach, resting on their arms, and ready for instant action.

But a life of such incessant toil and vigilance was almost too severe even for the stubborn constitutions of the
Spaniards. “Through the long night,” exclaims Diaz, who served in Alvarado’s division, “we kept our dreary watch;
neither wind, nor wet, nor cold availing anything. There we stood, smarting, as we were, from the wounds we had
received in the fight of the preceding day.” It was the rainy season, which continues in that country from July to
September; and the surface of the causeways, flooded by the storms, and broken up by the constant movement of such
large bodies of men, was converted into a marsh, or rather quagmire, which added inconceivably to the distresses of the
army.

The troops under Cortes were scarcely in a better situation. But few of them could find shelter in the rude towers
that garnished the works of Xoloc. The greater part were compelled to bivouac in the open air, exposed to all the
inclemency of the weather. Every man, unless his wounds prevented it, was required by the camp regulations to sleep on
his arms; and they were often roused from their hasty slumbers by the midnight call to battle. For Guatemozin, contrary
to the usual practice of his countrymen, frequently selected the hours of darkness to aim a blow at the enemy. “In
short,” exclaims the veteran soldier above quoted, “so unintermitting were our engagements, by day and by night, during
the three months in which we lay before the capital, that to recount them all would but exhaust the reader’s patience,
and make him to fancy he was perusing the incredible feats of a knight-errant of romance.”

The Aztec emperor conducted his operations on a systematic plan, which showed some approach to military science. He
not unfrequently made simultanious attacks on the three several divisions of the Spaniards established on the
causeways, and on the garrisons at their extremities. To accomplish this, he enforced the service not merely of his own
militia of the capital, but of the great towns in the neighbourhood, who all moved in concert, at the well-known signal
of the beacon-fire, or of the huge. drum struck by the priests on the summit of the temple. One of these general
attacks, it was observed, whether from accident or design, took place on the eve of St. John the Baptist, the
anniversary of the day on which the Spaniards made their second entry into the Mexican capital.

Notwithstanding the severe drain on his forces by this incessant warfare, the young monarch contrived to relieve
them in some degree by different detachments, who took the place of one another. This was apparent from the different
uniforms and military badges of the Indian battalions, who successively came and disappeared from the field. At night a
strict guard was maintained in the Aztec quarters, a thing not common with the nations of the plateau. The outposts of
the hostile armies were stationed within sight of each other. That of the Mexicans was usually placed in the
neighbourhood of some wide breach, and its position was marked by a large fire in front. The hours for relieving guard
were intimated by the shrill Aztec whistle, while bodies of men might be seen moving behind the flame, which threw a
still ruddier glow over the cinnamon-coloured skins of the warriors.

While thus active on land, Guatemozin was not idle on the water. He was too wise, indeed, to cope with the Spanish
navy again in open battle; but he resorted to stratagem, so much more congenial to Indian warfare. He placed a large
number of canoes in ambuscade among the tall reeds which fringed the southern shores of the lake, and caused piles, at
the same time, to be driven into the neighbouring shallows. Several piraguas, or boats of a larger size, then issued
forth, and rowed near the spot where the Spanish brigantines were moored. Two of the smallest vessels, supposing the
Indian barks were conveying provisions to the besieged, instantly stood after them, as had been foreseen. The Aztec
boats fled for shelter to the reedy thicket, where their companions lay in ambush. The Spaniards, following, were soon
entangled among the palisades under the water. They were instantly surrounded by the whole swarm of Indian canoes, most
of the men were wounded, several, including the two commanders, slain, and one of the brigantines fell — a useless
prize — into the hands of the victors. Among the slain was Pedro Barba, captain of the crossbowmen, a gallant officer,
who had highly distinguished himself in the Conquest. This disaster occasioned much mortification to Cortes. It was a
salutary lesson that stood him in good stead during the remainder of the war.

It may appear extraordinary that Guatemozin should have been able to provide for the maintenance of the crowded
population now gathered in the metropolis, especially as the avenues were all in the possession of the besieging army.
But, independently of the preparations made with this view before the siege and of the loathsome sustenance daily
furnished by the victims for sacrifice, supplies were constantly obtained from the surrounding country across the lake.
This was so conducted, for a time, as in a great measure to escape observation; and even when the brigantines were
commanded to cruise day and night, and sweep the waters of the boats employed in this service, many still contrived,
under cover of the darkness, to elude the vigilance of the cruisers, and brought their cargoes into port. It was not
till the great towns in the neighbourhood cast off their allegiance that the supply began to fall, from the failure of
its sources. The defection was more frequent, as the inhabitants became convinced that the government, incompetent to
its own defence, must be still more so to theirs: and the Aztec metropolis saw its great vassals fall off, one after
another, as the tree, over which decay is stealing, parts with its leaves at the first blast of the tempest.

The cities, which now claimed the Spanish general’s protection, supplied the camp with an incredible number of
warriors; a number which, if we admit Cortes’ own estimate, one hundred and fifty thousand, could have only served to
embarrass his operations on the long extended causeways. These levies were distributed among the three garrisons at the
terminations of the causeways; and many found active employment in foraging the country for provisions, and yet more in
carrying on hostilities against the places still unfriendly to the Spaniards.

Cortes found further occupation for them in the construction of barracks for his troops, who suffered greatly from
exposure to the incessant rains of the season, which were observed to fall more heavily by night than by day.
Quantities of stone and timber were obtained from the buildings that had been demolished in the city. They were
transported in the brigantines to the causeway, and from these materials a row of huts or barracks was constructed,
extending on either side of the works of Xoloc.

By this arrangement, ample accommodations were furnished for the Spanish troops and their Indian attendants,
amounting in all to about two thousand. The great body of the allies, with a small detachment of horse and infantry,
were quartered at the neighbouring post of Cojohuacan, which served to protect the rear of the encampment, and to
maintain its communications with the country. A similar disposition of forces took place in the other divisions of the
army, under Alvarado and Sandoval, though the accommodations provided for the shelter of the troops on their causeways
were not so substantial as those for the division of Cortes.

The Spanish camp was supplied with provisions from the friendly towns in the neighbourhood, and especially from
Tezcuco. They consisted of fish, the fruits of the country, particularly a sort of fig borne by the tuna (cactus
opuntia), and a species of cherry, or something much resembling it, which grew abundant at this season. But their
principal food was the tortillas, cakes of Indian meal, still common in Mexico, for which bakehouses were established,
under the care of the natives, in the garrison towns commanding the causeways. The aries, as appears too probable,
reinforced their frugal fare with an occasional banquet of human flesh, for which the battle-field unhappily afforded
them too much facility, and which, however shocking to the feelings of Cortes, he did not consider himself in a
situation at that moment to prevent.

Thus the tempest, which had been so long mustering, broke at length in all its fury on the Aztec capital. Its
unhappy inmates beheld the hostile legions encompassing them about with their glittering files stretching as far as the
eye could reach. They saw themselves deserted by their allies and vassals in their utmost need; the fierce stranger
penetrating into their secret places, violating their temples, plundering their palaces, wasting the fair city by day,
firing its suburbs by night, and intrenching himself in solid edifices under their walls as if determined never to
withdraw his foot while one stone remained upon another. All this they saw, yet their spirits were unbroken; and,
though famine and pestilence were beginning to creep over them, they still showed the same determined front to their
enemies. Cortes, who would gladly have spared the town and its inhabitants, beheld this resolution with astonishment.
He intimated more than once, by means of the prisoners whom he released, his willingness to grant them fair terms of
capitulation. Day after day, he fully expected his proffers would be accepted. But day after day he was disappointed.
He had yet to learn how tenacious was the memory of the Aztecs; and that, whatever might be the horrors of their
present situation, and their fears for the future, they were all forgotten in their hatred of the white man.

Chapter VI 1521

GENERAL ASSAULT ON THE CITY— DEFEAT OF THE SPANIARDS— THEIR DISASTROUS CONDITION— SACRIFICE OF THE
CAPTIVES— DEFECTION OF THE ALLIES— CONSTANCY OF THE TROOPS

FAMINE was now gradually working its way into the heart of the beleaguered city. It seemed certain that, with this
strict blockade, the crowded population must in the end be driven to capitulate, though no arm should be raised against
them. But it required time; and the Spaniards, though constant and enduring by nature, began to be impatient of
hardships scarcely inferior to those experienced by the besieged. In some respects their condition was even worse,
exposed, as they were, to the cold, drenching rains, which fen with little intermission, rendering their situation
dreary and disastrous in the extreme.

In this state of things there were many who would willingly have shortened their sufferings, and taken the chance of
carrying the place by a coup de main. Others thought it would be best to get possession of the great market of
Tlatelolco, which, from its situation in the north-western part of the city, might afford the means of communication
with the camps of both Alvarado and Sandoval. This place, encompassed by spacious porticos, would furnish
accommodations for a numerous host; and, once established in the capital, the Spaniards would be in a position to
follow up the blow with far more effect than at a distance.

These arguments were pressed by several of the officers, particularly by Alderete, the royal treasurer, a person of
much consideration, not only from his rank, but from the capacity and zeal he had shown in the service. In deference to
their wishes, Cortes summoned a council of war, and laid the matter before it. The treasurer’s views were espoused by
most of the high-mettled cavaliers, who looked with eagerness to any change of their present forlorn and wearisome
life; and Cortes, thinking it probably more prudent to adopt the less expedient course, than to enforce a cold and
reluctant obedience to his own opinion, suffered himself to be overruled.

A day was fixed for the assault, which was to be made simultaneously by the two divisions under Alvarado and the
commander-inchief. Sandoval was instructed to draw off the greater part of his forces from the northern causeway, and
to unite himself with Alvarado, while seventy picked soldiers were to be detached to the support of Cortes.

On the appointed morning, the two armies, after the usual celebration of mass, advanced along their respective
causeways against the city. They were supported, in addition to the brigantines, by a numerous fleet of Indian boats,
which were to force a passage up the canals, and by a countless multitude of allies, whose very numbers served in the
end to embarrass their operations. After clearing the suburbs, three avenues presented themselves, which all terminated
in the square of Tlatelolco. The principal one, being of much greater width than the other two, might rather be called
a causeway than a street, since it was flanked by deep canals on either side. Cortes divided his force into three
bodies. One of them he placed under Alderete, with orders to occupy the principal street. A second he gave in charge to
Andres de Tapia and Jorge de Alvarado; the former a cavalier of courage and capacity, the latter, a younger brother of
Don Pedro and possessed of the intrepid spirit which belonged to that chivalrous family. These were to penetrate by one
of the parallel streets, while the general himself, at the head of the third division, was to occupy the other. A small
body of cavalry, with two or three field-pieces, was stationed as a reserve in front of the great street of Tacuba,
which was designated as the rallying point for the different divisions.

Cortes gave the most positive instructions to his captains not to advance a step without securing the means of
retreat, by carefully filling up the ditches, and the openings in the causeway. The neglect of this precaution by
Alvarado, in an assault which he had made on the city but a few days before, had been attended with such serious
consequences to his army, that Cortes rode over, himself, to his officer’s quarters, for the purpose of publicly
reprimanding him for his disobedience of orders. On his arrival at the camp, however, he found that his offending
captain had conducted the affair with so much gallantry, that the intended reprimand — though well deserved — subsided
into a mild rebuke.

The arrangements being completed, the three divisions marched at once up the several streets. Cortes, dismounting,
took the van of his own squadron, at the head of his infantry. The Mexicans fell back as he advanced, making less
resistance than usual. The Spaniards pushed on, carrying one barricade after another, and carefully filling up the gaps
with rubbish, so as to secure themselves a footing. The canoes supported the attack, by moving along the canals, and
grappling with those of the enemy; while numbers of the nimble-footed Tlascalans, scaling the terraces, passed on from
one house to another, where they were connected, hurling the defenders into the streets below. The enemy, taken
apparently by surprise, seemed incapable of withstanding for a moment the fury of the assault; and the victorious
Christians, cheered on by the shouts of triumph which arose from their companions in the adjoining streets, were only
the more eager to be first at the destined goal.

Indeed, the facility of his success led the general to suspect that he might be advancing too fast; that it might be
a device of the enemy to draw them into the heart of the city, and then surround or attack them in the rear. He had
some misgivings, moreover, lest his too ardent officers, in the heat of the chase, should, notwithstanding his
commands, have overlooked the necessary precaution of filling up the breaches. He accordingly brought his squadron to a
halt, prepared to baffle any insidious movement of his adversary. Meanwhile he received more than one message from
Alderete, informing him that he had nearly gained the market. This only increased the general’s apprehension, that, in
the rapidity of his advance, he might have neglected to secure the ground. He determined to trust no eyes but his own,
and, taking a small body of troops, proceeded to reconnoitre the route followed by the treasurer.

He had not proceeded far along the great street, or causeway, when his progress was arrested by an opening ten or
twelve paces wide, and filled with water, at least two fathoms deep, by which a communication was formed between the
canals on the opposite sides. A feeble attempt had been made to stop the gap with the rubbish of the causeway, but in
too careless a manner to be of the least service; and a few straggling stones and pieces of timber only showed that the
work had been abandoned almost as soon as begun. To add to his consternation, the general observed that the sides of
the causeway in this neighbourhood had been pared off, and, as was evident, very recently. He saw in all this the
artifice of the cunning enemy; and had little doubt that his hot-headed officer had rushed into a snare deliberately
laid for him. Deeply alanned, he set about repairing the mischief as fast as possible, by ordering his men to fill up
the yawning chasm.

But they had scarcely begun their labours, when the hoarse echoes of conflict in the distance were succeeded by a
hideous sound of mingled yells and war-whoops, that seemed to rend the very heavens. This was followed by a rushing
noise, as of the tread of thronging multitudes, showing that the tide of battle was turned back from its former course,
and was rolling on towards the spot where Cortes and his little band of cavaliers were planted.

His conjecture proved too true. Alderete had followed the retreating Aztecs with an eagerness which increased with
every step of his advance. He had carried the barricades, which had defended the breach, without much difficulty, and,
as he swept on, gave orders. that the opening should be stopped. But the blood of the high-spirited cavaliers was
warmed by the chase, and no one cared to be detained by the ignoble occupation of filling up the ditches, while he
could gather laurels so easily in the fight; and they all pressed on, exhorting and cheering one another with the
assurance of being the first to reach the square of Tlatelolco. In this way they suffered themselves to be decoyed into
the heart of the city; when suddenly the horn of Guatemozin sent forth a long and piercing note from the summit of a
neighbouring teocalli. In an instant, the flying Aztecs, as if maddened by the blast, wheeled about, and turned on
their pursuers. At the same time, countless swarms of warriors from the adjoining streets and lanes poured in upon the
flanks of the assailants, filling the air with the fierce, unearthly cries which bad reached the ears of Cortes, and
drowning, for a moment, the wild dissonance which reigned in the other quarters of the capital.

The army, taken by surprise, and shaken by the fury of the assault, were thrown into the utmost disorder. Friends
and foes, white men and Indians, were mingled together in one promiscuous mass; spears, swords, and war-clubs were
brandished together in the air. Blows fell at random. In their eagerness to escape, they trod down one another. Blinded
by the missiles, which now rained on them from the azoteas, they staggered on, scarcely knowing in what direction, or
fell, struck down by hands which they could not see. On they came like a rushing torrent sweeping along some steep
declivity, and rolling in one confused tide towards the open breach, on the further side of which stood Cortes and his
companions, horror-struck at the sight of the approaching ruin. The foremost files soon plunged into the gulf, treading
one another under the flood, some striving ineffectually to swim, others, with more success, to clamber over the heaps
of their suffocated comrades. Many, as they attempted to scale the opposite sides of the slippery dike, fell into the
water, or were hurried off by the warriors in the canoes, who added to the horrors of the rout by the fresh storm of
darts and javelins which they poured on the fugitives.

Cortes, meanwhile, with his brave followers, kept his station undaunted on the other side of the breach. “I had made
up my mind,” he says, “to die rather than desert my poor followers in their extremity!” With outstretched hands he
endeavoured to rescue as many as he could from the watery grave, and from the more appalling fate of captivity. He as
vainly tried to restore something like presence of mind and order among the distracted fugitives. His person was too
well known to the Aztecs, and his position now made him a conspicuous mark for their weapons. Darts, stones, and arrows
fell around him as thick as hail, but glanced harmless from his steel helmet and armour of proof. At length a cry of
“Malinche, Malinche!” arose among the enemy; and six of their number, strong and athletic warriors, rushing on him at
once, made a violent effort to drag him on board their boat. In the struggle he received a severe wound in the leg,
which, for the time, disabled it. There seemed to be no hope for him; when a faithful follower, Christoval de Olea,
perceiving his general’s extremity, threw himself on the Aztecs, and with a blow cut off the arm of one savage, and
then plunged his sword in the body of another. He was quickly supported by a comrade named Lerma, and by a Tlascalan
chief, who, fighting over the prostrate body of Cortes, despatched three more of the assailants, though the heroic Olea
paid dearly for his self-devotion, as he fell mortally wounded by the side of his general.

The report soon spread among the soldiers that their commander was taken; and Quinones, the captain of his guard,
with several others pouring in to the rescue, succeeded in disentangling Cortes from the grasp of his enemies who were
struggling with him in the water, and raising him in their arms, placed him again on the causeway. One of his pages,
meanwhile, had advanced some way through the press, leading a horse for his master to mount. But the youth received a
wound in the throat from a javelin, which prevented him from effecting his object. Another of his attendants was more
successful. It was Guzman, his chamberlain; but as be held the bridle, while Cortes was assisted into the saddle, he
was snatched away by the Aztecs, and with the swiftness of thought, hurried off by their canoes. The general still
lingered, unwilling to leave the spot, whilst his presence could be of the least service. But the faithful Quinones,
taking his horse by the bridle, turned his head from the breach, exclaiming at the same time, that “his master’s life
was too important to the army to be thrown away there.”

Cortes at length succeeded in regaining the firm ground, and reaching the open place before the great street of
Tacuba. Here, under a sharp fire of the artillery, he rallied his broken squadrons, and charging at the head of the
little body of horse, which, not having been brought into action, were still fresh, he beat off the enemy. He then
commanded the retreat of the two other divisions. The scattered forces again united; and the general, sending forward
his Indian confederates, took the rear with a chosen body of cavalry to cover the retreat of the army, which was
effected with but little additional loss.

Andres de Tapia was despatched to the western causeway to acquaint Alvarado and Sandoval with the failure of the
enterprise. Meanwhile the two captains had penetrated far into the city. Cheered by the triumphant shouts of their
countrymen in the adjacent streets, they had pushed on with extraordinary vigour, that they might not be outstripped in
the race of glory. They had almost reached the market-place, which lay nearer to their quarters than to the general’s,
when they heard the blast from the dread horn of Guatemozin, followed by the overpowering yell of the barbarians, which
had so startled the ears of Cortes: till at length the sounds the receding conflict died away in the distance. The two
captains now understood that the day must have gone hard with their countrymen. They soon had further proof of it, when
the victorious Aztecs, returning from the pursuit of Cortes, joined their forces to those engaged with Sandoval and
Alvarado, and fell on them with redoubled fury. At the same time they rolled on the ground two or three of the bloody
heads of the Spaniards, shouting the name of “Malinche.” The captains, struck with horror at the spectacle, though they
gave little credit to the words of the enemy — instantly ordered a retreat. The fierce barbarians followed up the
Spaniards to their very intrenchments. But here they were met, first by the cross fire of the brigantines, which,
dashing through the palisades planted to obstruct their movements, completely enfiladed the causeway, and next by that
of the small battery erected in front of the camp, which, under the management of a skilful engineer, named Medrano,
swept the whole length of the defile. Thus galled in front and on flank, the shattered columns of the Aztecs were
compelled to give way and take shelter under the defences of the city.

The greatest anxiety now prevailed in the camp, regarding the fate of Cortes, for Tapia had been detained on the
road by scattered parties of the enemy, whom Guatemozin had stationed there to interrupt the communications between the
camps. He arrived, at length, however, though bleeding from several wounds. His intelligence, while it re-assured the
Spaniards as to the general’s personal safety, was not calculated to allay their uneasiness in other respects.

Sandoval, in particular, was desirous to acquaint himself with the actual state of things, and the further
intentions of Cortes. Suffering as he was from three wounds, which he had received in that day’s fight, he resolved to
visit in person the quarters of the commander-inchief. It was mid-day — for the busy scenes of the morning had occupied
but a few hours, when Sandoval remounted the good steed, on whose strength and speed he knew he could rely.

On arriving at the camp, he found the troops there much worn and dispirited by the disaster of the morning. They had
good reason to be so. Besides the killed, and a long file of wounded, sixty-two Spaniards, with a multitude of allies,
had fallen alive into the hands of the enemy. The loss of two field-pieces and seven horses crowned their own disgrace
and the triumphs of the Aztecs.

Cortes, it was observed, had borne himself throughout this trying day with his usual intrepidity and coolness. It
was with a cheerful countenance, that he now received his lieutenant; but a shade of sadness was visible through this
outward composure, showing how the catastrophe of the puente cuidada, “the sorrowful bridge,” as he mournfully called
it, lay heavy at his heart.

To the cavalier’s anxious inquiries, as to the cause of the disaster, he replied: “It is for my sins that it has
befallen me, son Sandoval”; for such was the affectionate epithet with which Cortes often addressed his best-beloved
and trusty officer. He then explained to him the immediate cause, in the negligence of the treasurer. Further
conversation followed, in which the general declared his purpose to forego active hostilities for a few days. “You must
take my place,” continued, “for I am too much crippled at present to discharge my duties. You must watch over the
safety of the camps. Give especial heed to Alvarado’s. He is a gallant soldier, I know it well; but I doubt the Mexican
hounds may, some hour, take him at disadvantage.” These few words showed the general’s own estimate of his two
lieutenants; both equally brave and chivalrous; but the one uniting with these qualities the circumspection so
essential to success in perilous enterprises, in which the other was signally deficient. It was under the training of
Cortes that he learned to be a soldier. The general, having concluded his instructions, affectionately embraced his
lieutenant, and dismissed him to his quarters.

It was late in the afternoon when he reached them; but the sun was still lingering above the western hills, and
poured his beams wide over the valley, lighting up the old towers and temples of Tenochtitlan with a mellow radiance
that little harmonised with the dark scenes of strife in which the city had so lately been involved. The tranquillity
of the hour, however, was on a sudden broken by the strange sounds of the great drum in the temple of the war-god —
sounds which recalled the noche triste, with all its terrible images, to the minds of the Spaniards, for that was the
only occasion on which they had ever heard them. They intimated some solemn act of religion within the unhallowed
precincts of the teocalli; and the soldiers, startled by the mournful vibrations, which might be heard for leagues
across the valley, turned their eyes to the quarter whence they proceeded. They there beheld a long procession winding
up the huge sides of the pyramid; for the camp of Alvarado was pitched scarcely a mile from the city, and objects are
distinctly visible, at a great distance, in the transparent atmosphere of the tableland.

As the long file of priests and warriors reached the flat summit of the teocalli, the Spaniards saw the figures of
several men stripped to their waists, some of whom, by the whiteness of their skins, they recognised as their own
countrymen. They were the victims for sacrifice. Their heads were gaudily decorated with coronals of plumes, and they
carried fans in their hands. They were urged along by blows, and compelled to take part in the dances in honour of the
Aztec war-god. The unfortunate captives, then stripped of their sad finery, were stretched one after another on the
great stone of sacrifice. On its convex surface, their breasts were heaved up conveniently for the diabolical purpose
of the priestly executioner, who cut asunder the ribs by a strong blow with his sharp razor of itztli, and thrusting
his hand into the wound, tore away the heart, which, hot and reeking, was deposited on the golden censer before the
idol. The body of the slaughtered victim was then hurled down the steep stairs of the pyramid, which, it may be
remembered, were placed at the same angle of the pile, one flight below another; and the mutilated remains were
gathered up by the savages beneath, who soon prepared with them the cannibal repast which completed the work of
abomination!

We may imagine with what sensations the stupefied Spaniards must have gazed on this horrid spectacle, so near that
they could almost recognise the persons of their unfortunate friends, see the struggles and writhing of their bodies,
hear — or fancy that they heard — their screams of agony! yet so far removed that they could render them no assistance.
Their limbs trembled beneath them, as they thought what might one day be their own fate; and the bravest among them,
who had hitherto gone to battle, as careless and lighthearted, as to the banquet or the ball-room, were unable, from
this time forward, to encounter their ferocious enemy without a sickening feeling, much akin to fear, coming over
them.

The five following days passed away in a state of inaction, except indeed, so far as was necessary to repel the
sorties, made from time to time, by the militia of the capital. The Mexicans, elated with their success, meanwhile
abandoned themselves to jubilee; singing, dancing and feasting on the mangled relics of their wretched victims.
Guatemozin sent several heads of the Spaniards, as well as of the horses, round the country, calling on his old vassals
to forsake the banners of the white men, unless they would share the doom of the enemies of Mexico. The priests now
cheered the young monarch and the people with the declaration, that the dread Huitzilopochtli, their offended deity,
appeased by the sacrifices offered up on his altars, would again take the Aztecs under his protection, and deliver
their enemies, before the expiration of eight days, into their hands.

This comfortable prediction, confidently believed by the Mexicans, was thundered in the ears of the besieging army
in tones of exultation and defiance. However it may have been contemned by the Spaniards, it had a very different
effect on their allies. The latter had begun to be disgusted with a service so full of peril and suffering, and already
protracted far beyond the usual term of Indian hostilities. They had less confidence than before in the Spaniards.
Experience had shown that they were neither invincible nor immortal, and their recent reverses made them even distrust
the ability of the Christians to reduce the Aztec metropolis. They recalled to mind the ominous words of Xicotencatl,
that “so sacrilegious a war could come to no good for the people of Anahuac.” They felt that their arm was raised
against the gods of their country. The prediction of the oracle fell heavy on their hearts. They had little doubt of
its fulfilment, and were only eager to turn away the bolt from their own heads by a timely secession from the
cause.

They took advantage, therefore, of the friendly cover of night to steal away from their quarters. Company after
company deserted in this manner, taking the direction of their respective homes. Those belonging to the great towns of
the valley, whose allegiance was the most recent, were the first to cast it off. Their example was followed by the
older confederates, the militia of Cholula, Tepeaca, Tezcuco, and even the faithful Tlascala. There were, it is true,
some exceptions to these, and among them, Ixtlilxochitl, the younger lord of Tezcuco, and Chichemecatl, the valiant
Tlascalan chieftain, who, with a few of their immediate followers, still remained true to the banner under which they
had. enlisted. But their number was insignificant. The Spaniards beheld with dismay the mighty array, on which they
relied for support, thus silently melting away before the breath of superstition. Cortes alone maintained a cheerful
countenance. He treated the prediction with contempt, as an invention of the priests, and sent his messengers after the
retreating squadrons, beseeching them to postpone their departure, or at least to halt on the road, till the time,
which would soon elapse, should show the falsehood of the prophecy.

The affairs of the Spaniards, at this crisis, must be confessed to have worn a gloomy aspect. Deserted by their
allies, with their ammunition nearly exhausted, cut off from the customary supplies from the neighbourhood, harassed by
unintermitting vigils and fatigues, smarting under wounds, of which every man in the army had his share, with an
unfriendly country in their rear, and a mortal foe in front, they might well be excused for faltering in their
enterprise. Night after night fresh victims were led up to the great altar of sacrifice; and while the city blazed with
the illuminations of a thousand bonfires on the terraced roofs of the dwellings, and in the areas of the temples, the
dismal pageant was distinctly visible from the camp below. One of the last of the sufferers was Guzman, the unfortunate
chamberlain of Cortes, who lingered in captivity eighteen days before he met his doom.

Amidst all the distresses and multiplied embarrassments of their situation, the Spaniards still remained true to
their purpose. They relaxed in no degree the severity of the blockade. Their camps still occupied the only avenues to
the city; and their batteries, sweeping the long defiles at every fresh assault of the Aztecs, mowed down hundreds of
the assailants. Their brigantines still rode on the waters, cutting off the communication with the shore. It is true,
indeed, the loss of the auxiliary canoes left a passage open for the occasional introduction of supplies to the
capital. But the whole amount of these supplies was small; and its crowded population, while exulting in their
temporary advantage, and the delusive assurances of their priests, were beginning to sink under the withering grasp of
an enemy within, more terrible than the one which lay before their gates.

Chapter VII 1521

SUCCESS OF THE SPANIARDS— FRUITLESS OFFERS TO GUATEMOZIN— BUILDINGS RAZED TO THE GROUND— TERRIBLE
FAMINE— THE TROOPS GAIN THE MARKET— PLACE

THUS passed away the eight days prescribed by the oracle; and the sun, which rose upon the ninth, beheld the fair
city still beset on every side by the inexorable foe. It was a great mistake of the Aztec priests — one not uncommon
with false prophets, anxious to produce a startling impression on their followers — to assign so short a term for the
fulfilment of their prediction.

The Tezcucan and Tlascalan chiefs now sent to acquaint their troops with the failure of the prophecy, and to recall
them to the Christian camp. The Tlascalans, who had halted on the way, returned, ashamed of their credulity, and with
ancient feelings of animosity, heightened by the artifice of which they had been the dupes. Their example was followed
by many of the other confederates. In a short time the Spanish general found himself at the head of an auxiliary force,
which, if not so numerous as before, was more than adequate to all his purposes. He received them with politic
benignity; and, while he reminded them that they had been guilty of a great crime in thus abandoning their commander,
he was willing to overlook it in consideration of their past services. They must be aware that these services were not
necessary to the Spaniards, who had carried on the siege with the same vigour during their absence as when they were
present. But he was unwilling that those who had shared the dangers of the war with him, should not also partake of its
triumphs, and be present at the fall of their enemy, which he promised, with a confidence better founded than that of
the priests in their prediction, should not be long delayed.

Yet the menaces and machinations of Guatemozin were still not without effect in the distant provinces. Before the
full return of the confederates, Cortes received an embassy from Cuernavaca, ten or twelve leagues distant, and another
from some friendly towns of the Otomies, still further off, imploring his protection against their formidable
neighbours, who menaced them with hostilities as allies of the Spaniards. As the latter were then situated, they were
in a condition to receive succour much more than to give it. Most of the officers were accordingly opposed to granting
a request, the compliance with which must still further impair their diminished strength. But Cortes knew the
importance, above all, of not betraying his own inability to grant it. “The greater our weakness,” he said, “the
greater need have we to cover it under a show of strength.”

He immediately detached Tapia with a body of about a hundred men in one direction, and Sandoval with a somewhat
larger force in the other, with orders that their absence should not in any event be prolonged beyond ten days. The two
capitains executed their commission promptly and effectually. They each met and defeated his adversary in a pitched
battle; laid waste the hostile territories, and returned within the time prescribed. They were soon followed by
ambassadors from the conquered places, soliciting the alliance of the Spaniards; and the affair terminated by an
accession of new confederates, and, what was more important, a conviction in the old, that the Spaniards were both
willing and competent to protect them.

Fortune, who seldom dispenses her frowns or her favours singlehanded, further showed her good will to the Spaniards
at this time, by sending a vessel into Vera Cruz laden with ammunition and military stores. It was part of the fleet
destined for the Florida coast by the romantic old knight, Ponce de Leon. The cargo was immediately taken by the
authorities of the port, and forwarded, without delay, to the camp, where it arrived most seasonably, as the want of
powder, in particular, had begun to be seriously felt. With strength thus renovated, Cortes determined to resume active
operations, but on a plan widely differing from that pursued before.

In the former deliberations on the subject, two courses, as we have seen, presented themselves to the general. One
was, to intrench himself in the heart of the capital, and from this point carry on hostilities; the other was the mode
of proceeding hitherto followed. Both were open to serious objections, which he hoped would be obviated by the one now
adopted. This was, to advance no step without securing the entire safety of the army, not only on its immediate
retreat, but in its future inroads. Every breach in the causeway, every canal in the streets, was to be filled up in so
solid a manner, that the work should not be again disturbed. The materials for this were to be furnished by the
buildings, every one of which, as the army advanced, whether public or private, hut, temple, or palace, was to be
demolished! Not a building in their path was to be spared. They were all indiscriminately to be levelled, until, in the
Conqueror’s own language, “the water should be converted into dry land,” and a smooth and open ground be afforded for
the manoeuvres of the cavalry and artillery.

Cortes came to this terrible determination with great difficulty. He sincerely desired to spare the city, “the most
beautiful thing in the world,” as he enthusiastically styles it, and which would have formed the most glorious trophy
of his conquest. But, in a place where every house was a fortress, and every street was cut up by canals so
embarrassing to his movements, experience proved it was vain to think of doing so, and becoming master of it. There was
as little hope of a peaceful accommodation with the Aztecs, who, so far from being broken by all they had hitherto
endured, and the long perspective of future woes, showed a spirit as haughty and implacable as ever.

The general’s intentions were learned by the Indian allies with unbounded satisfaction; and they answered his call
for aid by thousands of pioneers, armed with their coas, or hoes of the country, all testifying the greatest alacrity
in helping on the work of destruction. In a short time the breaches in the great causeways were filled up so
effectually that they were never again molested. Cortes himself set the example by carrying stones and timber with. his
own hands. The buildings in the suburbs were then thoroughly levelled, the canals were filled up with the rubbish, and
a wide space around the city was thrown open to the manoeuvres of the cavalry, who swept over it free and unresisted.
The Mexicans did not look with indifference on these preparations to lay waste their town, and leave them bare and
unprotected against the enemy. They made incessant efforts to impede the labours of the besiegers, but the latter,
under cover of their guns, which kept up an unintermitting fire, still advanced in the work of desolation.

The gleam of fortune, which had so lately broken out on the Mexicans, again disappeared; and the dark mist, after
having been raised for a moment, settled on the doomed capital more heavily than before. Famine, with all her hideous
train of woes, was making rapid strides among its accumulated population. The stores provided for the siege were
exhausted. The casual supply of human victims, or that obtained by some straggling pirogue from the neighbouring
shores, was too inconsiderable to be widely felt. Some forced a scanty sustenance from a mucilaginous substance,
gathered in small quantities on the surface of the lake and canals. Others appeased the cravings of appetite by
devouring rats, lizards, and the like loathsome reptiles, which had not yet deserted the starving city. Its days seemed
to be already numbered. But the page of history has many an example, to show that there are no limits to the endurance
of which humanity is capable, when animated by hatred and despair.

With the sword thus suspended over it, the Spanish commander, desirous to make one more effort to save the capital,
persuaded three Aztec nobles, taken in one of the late actions, to bear a message from him to Guatemozin; though they
undertook it with reluctance, for fear of the consequences to themselves. Cortes told the emperor, that all had now
been done that brave men could do in defence of their country. There remained no hope, no chance of escape for the
Mexicans. Their provisions were exhausted; their communications were cut off; their vassals had deserted them; even
their gods had betrayed them. They stood alone, with the nations of Anahuac banded against them. There was no hope, but
in immediate surrender. He besought the young monarch to take compassion on his brave subjects, who were daily
perishing before his eyes; and on the fair city, whose stately buildings were fast crumbling into ruins. “Return to the
allegiance,” he concludes, “which you once proffered to the sovereign of Castile. The past shall be forgotten. The
persons and property — in short, all the rights of the Aztecs shall be respected. You shall be confirmed in your
authority, and Spain will once more take your city under her protection.”

The eye of the young monarch kindled, and his dark cheek flushed with sudden anger, as he listened to proposals so
humiliating. But, though his bosom glowed with the fiery temper of the Indian, he had the qualities of a “gentle
cavalier,” says one of his enemies, who knew him well. He did no harm to the envoys; but, after the heat of the moment
had passed off, he gave the matter a calm consideration, and called a council of his wise men and warriors to
deliberate upon it. Some were for accepting the proposals, as offering the only chance of preservation. But the priests
took a different view of the matter. They knew that the ruin of their own order must follow the triumph of
Christianity. “Peace was good,” they said, “but not with the white men.” They reminded Guatemozin of the fate of his
uncle Montezuma, and the requital he had met with for all his hospitality: of the seizure and imprisonment of Cacama,
the cacique of Tezcuco; of the massacre of the nobles by Alvarado; of the insatiable avarice of the invaders, which had
stripped the country of its treasures; of their profanation of the temples; of the injuries and insults which they had
heaped without measure on the people and their religion. “Better,” they said, “to trust in the promises of their own
gods, who had so long watched over the nation. Better, if need be, give up our lives at once for our country, than drag
them out in slavery and suffering among the false strangers.”

The eloquence of the priests, artfully touching the various wrongs of his people, roused the hot blood of
Guatemozin. “Since it is so,” he abruptly exclaimed, “let us think only of supplying the wants of the people. Let no
man, henceforth, who values his life, talk of surrender. We can at least die like warriors.”

The Spaniards waited two days for the answer to their embassy. At length, it came in a general sortie of the
Mexicans, who, pouring through every gate of the capital, like a river that has burst its banks, swept on, wave upon
wave, to the very intrenchments of the besiegers, threatening to overwhelm them by their numbers! Fortunately, the
position of the latter on the dikes secured their flanks, and the narrowness of the defile gave their small battery of
guns all the advantages of a larger one. The fire of artillery and musketry blazed without intermission along the
several causeways, belching forth volumes of sulphurous smoke, that, rolling heavily over the waters, settled dark
around the Indian city, and hid it from the surrounding country. The brigantines thundered, at the same time. on the
flanks of the columns, which, after some ineffectual efforts to maintain themselves, rolled back in wild confusion,
till their impotent fury died away in sullen murmurs within the capital.

Cortes now steadily pursued the plan he had laid down for the devastation of the city. Day after day the several
armies entered by their respective quarters; Sandoval probably directing his operations against the north-eastern
district. The buildings made of the porous tetzontli, though generally low, were so massy and extensive, and the canals
were so numerous, that their progress was necessarily slow. They, however, gathered fresh accessions of strength every
day from the numbers who flocked to the camp from the surrounding country, and who joined in the work of destruction
with a hearty good will, which showed their eagerness to break the detested yoke of the Aztecs. The latter raged with
impotent anger as they beheld their lordly edifices, their temples, all they had been accustomed to venerate, thus
ruthlessly swept away; their canals, constructed with so much labour, and what to them seemed science, filled up with
rubbish; their flourishing city, in short, turned into a desert, over which the insulting foe now rode triumphant. They
heaped many a taunt on the Indian allies. “Go on,” they said, bitterly; “the more you destroy, the more you will have
to build up again hereafter. If we conquer, you shall build for us; and if your white friends conquer, they will make
you do as much for them.” The event justified the prediction.

The division of Cortes had now worked its way as far north as the great street of Tacuba, which opened a
communication with Alvarado’s camp, and near which stood the palace of Guatemozin. It was a spacious stone pile, that
might well be called a fortress. Though deserted by its royal master, it was held by a strong body of Aztecs, who made
a temporary defence, but of little avail against the battering enginery of the besiegers. It was soon set on fire, and
its crumbling walls were levelled in the dust, like those other stately edifices of the capital, the boast and
admiration of the Aztecs, and some of the fairest fruits of their civilisation. “It was a sad thing to witness their
destruction,” exclaims Cortes; “but it was part of our plan of operations, and we had no alternative.”

These operations had consumed several weeks, so that it was now drawing towards the latter part of July. During this
time, the blockade had been maintained with the utmost rigour, and the wretched inhabitants were suffering all the
extremities of famine. Some few stragglers were taken, from time to time, in the neighbourhood of the Christian camp,
whither they had wandered in search of food. They were kindly treated by command of Cortes, who was in hopes to induce
others to follow their example, and thus to afford a means of conciliating the inhabitants, which might open the way to
their submission. But few were found willing to leave the shelter of the capital, and they preferred to take their
chance with their suffering countrymen, rather than trust themselves to the mercies of the besiegers.

From these few stragglers, however, the Spaniards heard a dismal tale of woe, respecting the crowded population in
the interior of the city. All the ordinary means of sustenance had long since failed, and they now supported life as
they could, by means of such roots as they could dig from the earth, by gnawing the bark of trees, by feeding on the
grass — on anything, in short, however loathsome, that could allay the craving of appetite. Their only drink was the
brackish water of the soil, saturated with the salt lake. Under this unwholesome diet, and the diseases engendered by
it, the population was gradually wasting away. Men sickened and died every day, in all the excruciating torments
produced by hunger, and the wan and emaciated survivors seemed only to be waiting for their time.

The Spaniards had visible confirmation of all this, as they penetrated deeper into the city, and approached the
district of Tlatelolco now occupied by the besieged. They found the ground turned up in quest of roots and weeds, the
trees stripped of their green stems, their foliage, and their bark. Troops of famished Indians flitted in the distance,
gliding like ghosts among the scenes of their former residence. Dead bodies lay unburied in the streets and courtyards,
or filled up the canals. It was a sure sign of the extremity of the Aztecs; for they held the burial of the dead as a
solemn and imperative duty. In the early part of the siege, they had religiously attended to it. In its later stages,
they were still careful to withdraw the dead from the public eye, by bringing their remains within the houses. But the
number of these, and their own sufferings, had now so fearfully increased, that they had grown indifferent to this, and
they suffered their friends and their kinsmen to lie and moulder on the spot where they drew their last breath!

As the invaders entered the dwellings, a more appalling spectacle presented itself; — the floors covered with the
prostrate forms of the miserable inmates, some in the agonies of death, others festering in their corruption; men,
women, and children, inhaling the poisonous atmosphere, and mingling promiscuously together; mothers, with their
infants in their arms perishing of hunger before their eyes, while they were unable to afford them the nourishment of
nature; men crippled by their wounds, with their bodies frightfully mangled, vainly attempting to crawl away, as the
enemy entered. Yet, even in this state, they scorned to ask for mercy, and glared on the invaders with the sullen
ferocity of the wounded tiger, that the huntsmen have tracked to his forest cave. The Spanish commander issued strict
orders that mercy should be shown to these poor and disabled victims. But the Indian allies made no distinction. An
Aztec, under whatever circumstances, was an enemy; and, with hideous shouts of triumph, they pulled down the burning
buildings on their heads, consuming the living and the dead in one common funeral pile!

Yet the sufferings of the Aztecs, terrible as they were, did not incline them to submission. There were many,
indeed, who, from greater strength of constitution, or from the more favourable circumstances in which they were
placed, still showed all their wonted energy of body and mind, and maintained the same undaunted and resolute demeanour
as before. They fiercely rejected all the overtures of Cortes, declaring they would rather die than surrender, and,
adding with a bitter tone of exultation, that the invaders would be at least disappointed in their expectations of
treasure, for it was buried where they could never find it!

Cortes had now entered one of the great avenues leading to the market-place of Tlatelolco, the quarter towards which
the movements of Alvarado were also directed. A single canal only lay in his way, but this was of great width and
stoutly defended by the Mexican archery. At this crisis, the army one evening, while in their intrenchments on the
causeway, were surprised by an uncommon light, that arose from the huge teocalli in that part of the city, which, being
at the north, was the most distant from their own position. This temple, dedicated to the dread war-god, was inferior
only to the pyramid in the great square; and on it the Spaniards had more than once seen their unhappy countrymen led
to slaughter. They now supposed that the enemy were employed in some of their diabolical ceremonies, when the flame,
mounting higher and higher, showed that the sanctuaries themselves were on fire. A shout of exultation at the sight
broke forth from the assembled soldiers, as they assured one another that their countrymen under Alvarado had got
possession of the building.

It was indeed true. That gallant officer, whose position on the western causeway placed him near the district of
Tlatelolco, had obeyed his commander’s instructions to the letter, razing every building to the ground in his progress,
and filling up the ditches with their ruins. He, at length, found himself before the great teocalli in the
neighbourhood of the market. He ordered a company, under a cavalier named Gutierre de Badajoz, to storm the place,
which was defended by a body of warriors, mingled with priests, still more wild and ferocious than the soldiery. The
garrison, rushing down the winding terraces, fell on the assailants with such fury, as compelled them to retreat in
confusion, and with some loss. Alvarado ordered another detachment to their support. This last was engaged, at the
moment, with a body of Aztecs, who hung on its rear as it wound up the galleries of the teocalli. Thus hemmed in
between two enemies, above and below, the position of the Spaniards was critical. With sword and buckler, they plunged
desperately on the ascending Mexicans, and drove them into the courtyard below, where Alvarado plied them with such
lively volleys of musketry, as soon threw them into disorder and compelled them to abandon the ground. Being thus rid
of annoyance in the rear, the Spaniards returned to the charge. They drove the enemy up the heights of the pyramid,
and, reaching the broad summit, a fierce encounter followed in mid-air — such an encounter as takes place where death
is the certain consequence of defeat. It ended as usual, in the discomfiture of the Aztecs, who were either slaughtered
on the spot still wet with the blood of their own victims, or pitched headlong down the sides of the pyramid.

The Spaniards completed their work by firing the sanctuaries, that the place might be no more polluted by these
abominable rites. The flame crept slowly up the lofty pinnacles, in which stone was mingled with wood, till, at length,
bursting into one bright blaze, it shot up its spiral volume to such a height, that it was seen from the most distant
quarters of the valley. It was this which had been hailed by the soldiers of Cortes.

The commander-inchief and his division, animated by the spectacle, made, in their entrance on the following day,
more determined efforts to place themselves alongside of their companions under Alvarado. The broad canal, above
noticed as the only impediment now lying in his way, was to be traversed; and on the further side, the emaciated
figures of the Aztec warriors were gathered in numbers to dispute the passage. They poured down a storm of missiles on
the heads of the Indian labourers, while occupied with filling up the wide gap with the ruins of the surrounding
buildings. Still they toiled on in defiance of the arrowy shower, fresh numbers taking the place of those who fell. And
when at length the work was completed, the cavalry rode over the rough plain at full charge against the enemy, followed
by the deep array of spearmen, who bore down all opposition with their invincible phalanx.

The Spaniards now found themselves on the same ground with Alvarado’s division. Soon afterwards that chief, attended
by several of his staff, rode into their lines, and cordially embraced his countrymen and companions in arms, for the
first time since the beginning of the siege. They were now in the neighbourhood of the market. Cortes, taking with him
a few of his cavaliers, galloped into it. It was a vast inclosure, as the reader has already seen, covering many an
acre. The flat roofs of the piazzas were now covered with crowds of men and women, who gazed in silent dismay on the
steel-clad horsemen, that profaned these precincts with their presence for the first time since their expulsion from
the capital. The multitude, composed for the most part, probably, of unarmed citizens, seemed taken by surprise; at
least, they made no show of resistance; and the general, after leisurely viewing the ground, was permitted to ride back
unmolested to the army.

On arriving there, he ascended the teocalli, from which the standard of Castile, supplanting the memorials of Aztec
superstition, was now triumphantly floating. The Conqueror, as he strode among the smoking embers on the summit, calmly
surveyed the scene of desolation below. The palaces, the temples, the busy marts of industry and trade, the glittering
canals, covered with their rich freights from the surrounding country, the royal pomp of groves and gardens, all the
splendours of the imperial city, the capital of the Western World, for ever gone — and in their place a barren
wilderness! How different the spectacle which the year before had met his eye, as it wandered over the scenes from the
heights of the neighbouring teocalli, with Montezuma at his side! Seven-eighths of the city were laid in ruins, with
the occasional exception, perhaps, of some colossal temple. The remaining eighth, comprehending the district of
Tlatelolco, was all that now remained to the Aztecs, whose population — still large after all its losses — was crowded
into a compass that would hardly have afforded accommodation for a third of their numbers.

Chapter VIII 1521

DREADFUL SUFFERINGS OF THE BESIEGED— SPIRIT OF GUATEMOZIN— MURDEROUS ASSAULT— CAPTURE OF GUATEMOZIN—
TERMINATION OF THE SIEGE— REFLECTIONS

THERE was no occasion to resort to artificial means to precipitate the ruin of the Azecs. It was accelerated every
hour by causes more potent than those arising from mere human agency. There they were — pent up in their close and
suffocating quarters, nobles, commoners, and slaves, men, women, and children, some in houses, more frequently in
hovels — for this part of the city was not the best — others in the open air in canoes, or in the streets, shivering in
the cold rains of night, and scorched by the burning heat of day. The ordinary means of sustaining life were long since
gone. They wandered about in search of anything, however unwholesome or revolting, that might mitigate the fierce
gnawings of hunger. Some hunted for insects and worms on the borders of the lake, or gathered the salt weeds and moss
from its bottom, while at times they might be seen casting a wistful look at the hills beyond, which many of them had
left to share the fate of their brethren in the capital.

To their credit, it is said by the Spanish writers, that they were not driven in their extremity to violate the laws
of nature by feeding on one another. But unhappily this is contradicted by the Indian authorities, who state that many
a mother, in her agony, devoured the offspring which she had no longer the means of supporting. This is recorded of
more than one siege in history; and it is the more probable here, where the sensibilities must have been blunted by
familiarity with the brutal practices of the national superstition.

But all was not sufficient, and hundreds of famished wretches died every day from extremity of suffering. Some
dragged themselves into the houses, and drew their last breath alone, and in silence. Others sank down in the public
streets. Wherever they died, there they were left. There was no one to bury or to remove them. Familiarity with the
spectacle made men indifferent to it. They looked on in dumb despair, waiting for their own turn. There was no
complaint, no lamentation, but deep, unutterable woe.

If in other quarters of the town the corpses might be seen scattered over the streets, here they were gathered in
heaps. “They lay so thick,” says Bernal Diaz, “that one could not tread except among the bodies.” “A man could not set
his foot down,” says Cortes, yet more strongly, “unless on the corpse of an Indian!” They were piled one upon another,
the living mingled with the dead. They stretched themselves on the bodies of their friends, and lay down to sleep
there. Death was everywhere. The city was a vast charnel-house, in which all was hastening to decay and decomposition.
A poisonous steam arose from the mass of putrefaction, under the action of alternate rain and heat, which so tainted
the whole atmosphere, that the Spaniards, including the general himself, in their brief visits to the quarter, were
made ill by it, and it bred a pestilence that swept off even greater numbers than the famine.

In the midst of these awful scenes, the young emperor of the Aztecs remained, according to all accounts, calm and
courageous. With his fair capital laid in ruins before his eyes, his nobles and faithful subjects dying around him, his
territory rent away, foot by foot, till scarce enough remained for him to stand on, he rejected every invitation to
capitulate, and showed the same indomitable spirit as at the commencement of the siege. When Cortes, in the hope that
the extremities of the besieged would incline them to listen to an accommodation, persuaded a noble prisoner to bear to
Guatemozin his proposals to that effect, the fierce young monarch, according to the general, ordered him at once to be
sacrificed. It is a Spaniard, we must remember, who tells the story.

Cortes, who had suspended hostilities for several days, in the vain hope that the distresses of the Mexicans would
bend them to submission, now determined to drive them to it by a general assault. Cooped up, as they were, within a
narrow quarter of the city, their position favoured such an attempt. He commanded Alvarado to hold himself in
readiness, and directed Sandoval-who, besides the causeway, had charge of the fleet, which lay off the Tlatelolcan
district — to support the attack by a cannonade on the houses near the water. He then led his forces into the city, or
rather across the horrid waste that now encircled it.

On entering the Indian precincts, he was met by several of the chiefs, who, stretching forth their emaciated arms,
exclaimed, “You are the children of the Sun. But the Sun is swift in his course. Why are you, then, so tardy? Why do
you delay so long to put an end to our miseries? Rather kill us at once, that we may go to our god Huitzilopochtli, who
waits for us in heaven to give us rest from our sufferings!”

Cortes was moved by their piteous appeal, and answered, that he desired not their death, but their submission. “Why
does your master refuse to treat with me,” he said, “when a single hour will suffice for me to crush him and all his
people?” He then urged them to request Guatemozin to confer with him, with the assurance that he might do it in safety,
as his person should not be molested.

The nobles, after some persuasion, undertook the mission; and it was received by the young monarch in a manner which
showed — if the anecdote before related of him be true — that misfortune had, at length, asserted some power over his
haughty spirit. He consented to the interview, though not to have it take place on that day, but the following, in the
great square of Tlatelolco. Cortes, well satisfied, immediately withdrew from the city, and resumed his position on the
causeway.

The next morning he presented himself at the place appointed, having previously stationed Alvarado there with a
strong corps of infantry to guard against treachery. The stone platform in the centre of the square was covered with
mats and carpets, and a banquet was prepared to refresh the famished monarch and his nobles. Having made these
arrangements, he awaited the hour of the interview.

But Guatemozin, instead of appearing himself, sent his nobles, the same who had brought to him the general’s
invitation, and who now excused their master’s absence on the plea of illness. Cortes, though disappointed, gave a
courteous reception to the envoys, considering that it might still afford the means of opening a communication with the
emperor. He persuaded them without much entreaty to partake of the good cheer spread before them, which they did with a
voracity that told how severe had been their abstinence. He then dismissed them with a seasonable supply of provisions
for their master, pressing him to consent to an interview, without which it was impossible their differences could be
adjusted.

The Indian envoys returned in a short time, bearing with them a present of fine cotton fabrics, of no great value,
from Guatemozin, who still declined to meet the Spanish general. Cortes, though deeply chagrined, was unwilling to give
up the point. “He will surely come,” he said to the envoys, “when he sees that I suffer you to go and come unharmed,
you who have been my steady enemies, no less than himself, throughout the war. He has nothing to fear from me.” He
again parted with them, promising to receive their answer the following day.

On the next morning, the Aztec chiefs, entering the Christian quarters, announced to Cortes that Guatemozin would
confer with him at noon in the market-place. The general was punctual at the hour; but without success. Neither monarch
nor ministers appeared there. It was plain that the Indian prince did not care to trust the promises of his enemy. A
thought of Montezuma may have passed across his mind. After he had waited three hours, the general’s patience was
exhausted, and, as he learned that the Mexicans were busy in preparations for defence, he made immediate dispositions
for the assault.

The confederates had been left without the walls, for he did not care to bring them in sight of the quarry, before
he was ready to slip the leash. He now ordered them to join him; and, supported by Alvarado’s division, marched at once
into the enemy’s quarters. He found them prepared to receive him. Their most able-bodied warriors were thrown into the
van, covering their feeble and crippled comrades. Women were seen occasionally mingling in the ranks, and, as well as
children, thronged the azoteas, where, with famine-stricken visages and haggard eyes, they scowled defiance and hatred
on their invaders.

As the Spaniards advanced, the Mexicans set up a fierce war-cry, and sent off clouds of arrows with their accustomed
spirit, while the women and boys rained down darts and stones from their elevated position on the terraces. But the
missiles were sent by hands too feeble to do much damage; and, when the squadrons closed, the loss of strength became
still more sensible in the Aztecs. Their blows fell feebly and with doubtful aim; though some, it is true, of stronger
constitution, or gathering strength from despair, maintained to the last a desperate fight.

The arquebusiers now poured in a deadly fire. The brigantines replied by successive volleys in the opposite quarter.
The besieged, hemmed in, like deer surrounded by the huntsmen, were brought down on every side. The carnage was
horrible. The ground was heaped up with slain, until the maddened combatants were obliged to climb over the human
mounds to get at one another. The miry soil was saturated with blood, which ran off like water, and dyed the canals
themselves with crimson. All was uproar and terrible confusion. The hideous yells of the barbarians; the oaths and
execrations of the Spaniards; the cries of the wounded; the shrieks of women and children; the heavy blows of the
Conquerors; the deathstruggle of their victims; the rapid, reverberating echoes of musketry; the hissing of innumerable
missiles; the crash and crackling of blazing buildings, crushing hundreds in their ruins; the blinding volumes of dust
and sulphurous smoke shrouding all in their gloomy canopy — made a scene appalling even to the soldiers of Cortes,
steeled as they were by many a rough passage of war, and by long familiarity with blood and violence. “The piteous
cries of the women and children, in particular,” says the general, “were enough to break one’s heart.” He commanded
that they should be spared, and that all, who asked it, should receive quarter. He particularly urged this on the
confederates, and placed men among them to restrain their violence. But he had set an engine in motion too terrible to
be controlled. It were as easy to curb the hurricane in its fury, as the passions of an infuriated horde of savages.
“Never did I see so pitiless a race,” he exclaims, “or any thing wearing the form of man so destitute of humanity.”
They made no distinction of sex or age, and in this hour of vengeance seemed to be requiting the hoarded wrongs of a
century. At length, sated with slaughter, the Spanish commander sounded a retreat. It was full time, if, according to
his own statement — we may hope it is an exaggeration — forty thousand souls had perished! Yet their fate was to be
envied, in comparison with that of those who survived.

Through the long night which followed, no movement was perceptible in the Aztec quarter. No light was seen there, no
sound was heard, save the low moaning of some wounded or dying wretch, writhing in his agony. All was dark and silent —
the darkness of the grave. The last blow seemed to have completely stunned them. They had parted with hope, and sat in
sullen despair, like men waiting in silence the stroke of the executioner. Yet, for all this, they showed no
disposition to submit. Every new injury had sunk deeper into their souls, and filled them with a deeper hatred of their
enemy. Fortune, friends, kindred, home — all were gone. They were content to throw away life itself, now that they had
nothing more to live for.

Far different was the scene in the Christian camp, where, elated with their recent successes, all was alive with
bustle, and preparation for the morrow. Bonfires were seen blazing along the causeways, lights gleamed from tents and
barracks, and the sounds of music and merriment, borne over the waters, proclaimed the joy of the soldiers at the
prospect of so soon terminating their wearisome campaign.

On the following morning the Spanish commander again mustered his forces, having decided to follow up the blow of
the preceding day before the enemy should have time to rally, and at once to put an end to the war. He had arranged
with Alvarado, on the evening previous, to occupy the market-place of Tlatelolco; and the discharge of an arquebuse was
to be the signal for a simultaneous assault. Sandoval was to hold the northern causeway, and, with the fleet, to watch
the movements of the Indian emperor, and to intercept the flight to the main land, which Cortes knew he meditated. To
allow him to effect this, would be to leave a formidable enemy in his own neighbourhood, who might at any time kindle
the flame of insurrection throughout the country. He ordered Sandoval, however, to do no harm to the royal person, and
not to fire on the enemy at all, except in self-defence.

It was on the memorable 13th of August, 1521, that Cortes led his warlike array for the last time across the black
and blasted environs which lay around the Indian capital. On entering the Aztec precincts, he paused, willing to afford
its wretched inmates one more chance of escape, before striking the fatal blow. He obtained an interview with some of
the principal chiefs, and expostulated with them on the conduct of their prince. “He surely will not,” said the
general, “see you all perish, when he can so easily save you.” He then urged them to prevail on Guatemozin to hold a
conference with him, repeating the assurances of his personal safety.

The messengers went on their mission, and soon returned with the cihuacoatl at their head, a magistrate of high
authority among the Mexicans. He said, with a melancholy air, in which his own disappointment was visible, that
“Guatemozin was ready to die where he was, but would hold no interview with the Spanish commander”; adding in a tone of
resignation, “It is for you to work your Pleasure.” “Go, then,” replied the stern Conqueror, “and prepare your
countrymen for death. Their hour is come.”

He still postponed the assault for several hours. But the impatience of his troops at this delay was heightened by
the rumor that Guatemozin and his nobles were preparing to escape with their effects in the piraguas and canoes which
were moored on the margin of the lake. Convinced of the fruitlessness and impolicy of further procrastination, Cortes
made his final dispositions for the attack, and took his own station on an azotea, which commanded the theatre of
operations.

When the assailants came into presence of the enemy, they found them huddled together in the utmost confusion, all
ages and sexes, in masses so dense that they nearly forced one another over the brink of the causeways into the water
below. Some had climbed on the terraces, others feebly supported themselves against the wars of the buildings. Their
squalid and tattered garments gave a wildness to their appearance, which still further heightened the ferocity of their
expressions, as they glared on their enemy with eyes in which hate was mingled with despair. When the Spaniards had
approached within bowshot, the Aztecs let off a flight of impotent missiles, showing to the last the resolute spirit,
though they had lost the strength, of their better days. The fatal signal was then given by the discharge of an
arquebuse — speedily followed by peals of heavy ordnance, the rattle of firearms, and the hellish shouts of the
confederates, as they sprang upon their victims. It is unnecessary to stain the page with a repetition of the horrors
of the preceding day. Some of the wretched Aztecs threw themselves into the water, and were picked up by the canoes.
Others sunk and were suffocated in the canals. The number of these became so great, that a bridge was made of their
dead bodies, over which the assailants could climb to the opposite banks. Others again, especially the women, begged
for mercy, which, as the chroniclers assure us, was everywhere granted by the Spaniards, and, contrary to the
instructions and entreaties of Cortes, everywhere refused by the confederates.

While this work of butchery was going on, numbers were observed pushing off in the barks that lined the shore, and
making the best of their way across the lake. They were constantly intercepted by the brigantines, which broke through
the flimsy array of boats; sending off their volleys to the right and left, as the crews of the latter hotly assailed
them. The battle raged as fiercely on the lake as on the land. Many of the Indian vessels were shattered and
overturned. Some few, however, under cover of the smoke, which rolled darkly over the waters, succeeded in clearing
themselves of the turmoil, and were fast nearing the opposite shore.

Sandoval had particularly charged his captains to keep an eye on the movements of any vessel in which it was at all
probable that Guatemozin might be concealed. At this crisis, three or four of the largest piraguas were seen skimming
over the water, and making their way rapidly across the lake. A captain named Garci Holguin, who had command of one of
the best sailers in the fleet, instantly gave them chase. The wind was favourable, and every moment he gained on the
fugitives, who pulled their oars with a vigour that despair alone could have given. But it was in vain; and, after a
short race, Holguin, coming alongside of one of the piraguas, which, whether from its appearance, or from information
he had received, he conjectured might bear the Indian emperor, ordered his men to level their crossbows at the boat.
But, before they could discharge them, a cry arose from those on it, that their lord was on board. At the same moment,
a young warrior, armed with buckler and maquahuitl, rose up, as if to beat off the assailants. But, as the Spanish
captain ordered his men not to shoot, he dropped his weapons, and exclaimed, “I am Guatemozin; lead me to Malinche, I
am his prisoner; but let no harm come to my wife and my followers.”

Holguin assured him that his wishes should be respected, and assisted him to get on board the brigantine, followed
by his wife and attendants. These were twenty in number, consisting of Coanaco, the deposed lord of Tezcuco, the lord
of Tlacopan, and several other caciques and dignitaries, whose rank, probably, had secured them some exemption from the
general calamities of the siege. When the captives were seated on the deck of his vessel, Holguin requested the Aztec
prince to put an end to the combat by commanding his people in the other canoes to surrender. But, with a dejected air,
he replied, “It is not necessary. They will fight no longer, when they see that their prince is taken.” He spoke truth.
The news of Guatemozin’s capture spread rapidly through the fleet, and on shore, where the Mexicans were still engaged
in conflict with their enemies. It ceased, however, at once. They made no further resistance; and those on the water
quickly followed the brigantines, which conveyed their captive monarch to land.

Meanwhile Sandoval, on receiving tidings of the capture, brought his own brigantine alongside of Holguin’s, and
demanded the royal prisoner to be surrendered to him. But his captain claimed him as his prize. A dispute arose between
the parties, each anxious to have the glory of the deed, and perhaps the privilege of commemorating it on his
escutcheon. The controversy continued so long that it reached the ears of Cortes, who, in his station on the azotea,
had learned, with no little satisfaction, the capture of his enemy. He instantly sent orders to his wrangling officers
to bring Guatemozin before him, that he might adjust the difference between them. He charged them, at the same time, to
treat their prisoner with respect. He then made preparations for the interview; caused the terrace to be carpeted with
crimson cloth and matting, and a table to be spread with provisions, of which the unhappy Aztecs stood so much in need.
His lovely Indian mistress, Dona Marina, was present to act as interpreter. She had stood by his side through all the
troubled scenes of the Conquest, and she was there now to witness its triumphant termination.

Guatemozin, on landing, was escorted by a company of infantry to the presence of the Spanish commander. He mounted
the azotea with a calm and steady step, and was easily to be distinguished from his attendant nobles, though his full,
dark eye was no longer lighted up with its accustomed fire, and his features wore an expression of passive resignation,
that told little of the fierce and fiery spirit that burned within. His head was large, his limbs well proportioned,
his complexion fairer than those of his bronze-coloured nation, and his whole deportment singularly mild and
engaging.

Cortes came forward with a dignified and studied courtesy to receive him. The Aztec monarch probably knew the person
of his conqueror, for he first broke silence by saying, “I have done all that I could, to defend myself and my people.
I am now reduced to this state. You will deal with me, Malinche, as you list.” Then, laying his hand on the hilt of a
poniard, stuck in the general’s belt, he added, with vehemence, “Better despatch me with this, and rid me of life at
once.” Cortes was filled with admiration at the proud bearing of the young barbarian, showing in his reverses a spirit
worthy of an ancient Roman. “Fear not,” he replied, “you shall be treated with all honour. You have defended your
capital like a brave warrior. A Spaniard knows how to respect valour even in an enemy.” He then inquired of him, where
he had left the princess, his wife; and, being informed that she still remained under protection of a Spanish guard on
board the brigantine, the general sent to have her escorted to his presence.

She was the youngest daughter of Montezuma; and was hardly yet on the verge of womanhood. On the accession of her
cousin, Guatemozin, to the throne, she had been wedded to him as his lawful wife. She was kindly received by Cortes,
who showed her the respectful attentions suited to her rank. Her birth, no doubt, gave her an additional interest in
his eyes, and he may have felt some touch of compunction, as he gazed on the daughter of the unfortunate Montezuma. He
invited his royal captives to partake of the refreshments which their exhausted condition rendered so necessary.
Meanwhile the Spanish commander made his dispositions for the night, ordering Sandoval to escort the prisoners to
Cojohuacan, whither he proposed himself immediately to follow. The other captains, and Alvarado, were to draw off their
forces to their respective quarters. It was impossible for them to continue in the capital, where the poisonous
effluvia from the unburied carcasses loaded the air with infection. A small guard only was stationed to keep order in
the wasted suburbs. — It was the hour of vespers when Guatemozin surrendered, and the siege might be considered as then
concluded.

Thus, after a siege of nearly three months’ duration, unmatched in history for the constancy and courage of the
besieged, seldom surpassed for the severity of its sufferings, fell the renowned capital of the Aztecs. Unmatched, it
may be truly said, for constancy and courage, when we recollect that the door of capitulation on the most honourable
terms was left open to them throughout the whole blockade, and that, sternly rejecting every proposal of their enemy,
they, to a man, preferred to die rather than surrender. More than three centuries had elapsed since the Aztecs, a poor
and wandering tribe from the far north-west, had come on the plateau. There they built their miserable collection of
huts on the spot — as tradition tells us — prescribed by the oracle. Their conquests, at first confined to their
immediate neighbourhood, gradually covered the valley, then crossing the mountains, swept over the broad extent of the
tableland, descended its precipitous sides, and rolled onwards to the Mexican Gulf, and the distant confines of Central
America. Their wretched capital, meanwhile, keeping pace with the enlargement of territory, had grown into a
flourishing city, filled with buildings, monuments of art, and a numerous population, that gave it the first rank among
the capitals of the Western World. At this crisis, came over another race from the remote East, strangers like
themselves, whose coming had also been predicted by the oracle, and, appearing on the plateau, assailed them in the
very zenith of their prosperity, and blotted them out from the map of nations for ever! The whole story has the air of
fable rather than of history! a legend of romance — a tale of the genii!

Yet we cannot regret the fall of an empire which did so little to promote the happiness of its subjects, or the real
interests of humanity. Notwithstanding the lustre thrown over its latter days by the glorious defence of its capital,
by the mild munificence of Montezuma, by the dauntless heroism of Guatemozin, the Aztecs were emphatically a fierce and
brutal race, little calculated, in their best aspects, to excite our sympathy and regard. Their civilisation, such as
it was, was not their own, but reflected, perhaps imperfectly, from a race whom they had succeeded in the land. It was,
in respect to the Aztecs, a generous graft on a vicious stock, and could have brought no fruit to perfection. They
ruled over their wide domains with a sword, instead of a sceptre. They did nothing to ameliorate the condition, or in
any way promote the progress, of their vassals. Their vassals were serfs, used only to minister to their pleasure, held
in awe by armed garrisons, ground to the dust by imposts in peace, by military conscriptions in war. They did not, like
the Romans, whom they resembled in the nature of their conquests, extend the rights of citizenship to the conquered.
They did not amalgamate them into one great nation, with common rights and interests. They held them as aliens — even
those who in the valley were gathered round the very walls of the capital. The Aztec metropolis, the heart of the
monarchy, had not a sympathy, not a pulsation, in common with the rest of the body politic. It was a stranger in its
own land.

The Aztecs not only did not advance the condition of their vassals, but morally speaking, they did much to degrade
it. How can a nation, where human sacrifices prevail, and especially when combined with cannibalism, further the march
of civilisation? How can the interests of humanity be consulted where man is levelled to the rank of the brutes that
perish? The influence of the Aztecs introduced their gloomy superstition into lands before unacquainted with it, or
where, at least, it was not established in any great strength. The example of the capital was contagious. As the latter
increased in opulence, the religious celebrations were conducted with still more terrible magnificence. In the same
manner as the gladiatorial shows of the Romans increased in pomp with the increasing splendour of the capital, men
became familiar with scenes of horror and the most loathsome abominations; women and children — the whole nation became
familiar with, and assisted at them. The heart was hardened, the manners were made ferocious, the feeble light of
civilisation, transmitted from a milder race, was growing fainter and fainter, as thousands and thousands of miserable
victims throughout the empire were yearly fattened in its cages, sacrificed on its altars, dressed and served at its
banquets! The whole land was converted into a vast human shambles! The empire of the Aztecs did not fall before its
time.

Whether these unparalleled outrages furnish a sufficient plea to the Spaniards for their invasion, whether, with the
Protestant, we are content to find a warrant for it in the natural rights and demands of civilisation, or, with the
Roman Catholic, in the good pleasure of the Pope — on the one or other of which grounds, the conquests by most
Christian nations in the East and the West have been defended — it is unnecessary to discuss, as it has already been
considered in a former chapter. It is more material to inquire, whether, assuming the right, the conquest of Mexico was
conducted with a proper regard to the claims of humanity. And here we must admit that, with all allowance for the
ferocity of the age and the laxity of its principles, there are passages which every Spaniard, who cherishes the fame
of his countrymen, would be glad to see expunged from their history; passages not to be vindicated on the score of
self-defence, or of necessity of any kind, and which must forever leave a dark spot on the annals of the Conquest. And
yet, taken as a whole, the invasion, up to the capture of the capital, was conducted on principles less revolting to
humanity than most, perhaps than any, of the other conquests of the Castilian crown in the New World.

It may seem slight praise to say that the followers of Cortes used no blood-hounds to hunt down their wretched
victims, as in some other parts of the continent, nor exterminated a peaceful and submissive population in mere
wantonness of cruelty, as in the Islands. Yet it is something that they were not so far infected by the spirit of the
age, and that their swords were rarely stained with blood unless it was indispensable to the success of their
enterprise. Even in the last siege of the capital, the sufferings of the Aztecs, terrible as they were, do not imply
any unusual cruelty in the victors; they were not greater than those inflicted on their own countrymen at home, in many
a memorable instance, by the most polished nations, not merely of ancient times but of our own. They were the
inevitable consequences which follow from war, when, instead of being confined to its legitimate field, it is brought
home to the hearthstone, to the peaceful community of the city — its burghers untrained to arms, its women and children
yet more defenceless. In the present instance, indeed, the sufferings of the besieged were in a great degree to be
charged on themselves — on their patriotic, but desperate, self-devotion. It was not the desire, as certainly it was
not the interest, of the Spaniards to destroy the capital, or its inhabitants. When any of these fell into their hands,
they were kindly entertained, their wants supplied, and every means taken to infuse into them a spirit of conciliation;
and this, too, it should be remembered, in despite of the dreadful doom to which they consigned their Christian
captives. The gates of a fair capitulation were kept open, though unavailingly, to the last hour.

The right of conquest necessarily implies that of using whatever force may be necessary for overcoming resistance to
the assertion of that right. For the Spaniards to have done otherwise than they did, would have been to abandon the
siege, and, with it, the conquest of the country. To have suffered the inhabitants, with their high-spirited monarch,
to escape, would but have prolonged the miseries of war by transferring it to another and more inaccessible quarter.
They literally, as far as the success of the expedition was concerned, had no choice. If our imagination is struck with
the amount of suffering in this, and in similar scenes of the Conquest, it should be borne in mind, that it is a
natural result of the great masses of men engaged in the conflict. The amount of suffering does not in itself show the
amount of cruelty which caused it; and it is but justice to the Conquerors of Mexico to say that the very brilliancy
and importance of their exploits have given a melancholy celebrity to their misdeeds, and thrown them into somewhat
bolder relief than strictly belongs to them. It is proper that thus much should be stated, not to excuse their
excesses, but that we may be enabled to make a more impartial estimate of their conduct, as compared with that of other
nations under similar circumstances, and that we may not visit them with peculiar obloquy for evils which necessarily
flow from the condition of war.7

7 By none has this obloquy been poured with such unsparing hand
on the heads of the old Conquerors as by their own descendants, the modern Mexicans. Ixtlilxochitl’s editor,
Bustamante, concludes an animated invective against the invaders with recommending that a monument should be raised on
the spot — now dry land — where Guatemozin was taken, which, as the proposed inscription itself intimates, should
“devote to eternal execration the detested memory of these banditti!” (Venida de los Esp., p. 52, nota.) One would
suppose that the pure Aztec blood, uncontaminated by a drop of Castilian, flowed in the veins of the indignant editor
and his compatriots; or, at least, that their sympathies for the conquered race would make them anxious to reinstate
them in their ancient rights. Notwithstanding these bursts of generous indignation, however, which plentifully season
the writings of the Mexicans of our day, we do not find that the Revolution, or any of its numerous brood of
pronunciamientos, has resulted in restoring them to an acre of their ancient territory.

Whatever may be thought of the Conquest in a moral view, regarded as a military achievement, it must fill us with
astonishment. That a handful of adventurers, indifferently armed and equipped, should have landed on the shores of a
powerful empire, inhabited by a fierce and warlike race, and in defiance of the reiterated prohibitions of its
sovereign, have forced their way into the interior; — that they should have done this, without knowledge of the
language or the land, without chart or compass to guide them, without any idea of the difficulties they were to
encounter, totally uncertain whether the next step might bring them on a hostile nation, or on a desert, feeling their
way along in the dark, as it were; — that though nearly overwhelmed by their first encounter with the inhabitants, they
should have still pressed on to the capital of the empire, and, having reached it, thrown themselves unhesitatingly
into the midst of their enemies; — that, so far from being daunted by the extraordinary spectacle there exhibited of
power and civilisation, they should have been but the more confirmed in their original design; — that they should have
seized the monarch, have executed his ministers before the eyes of his subjects, and, when driven forth with ruin from
the gates, have gathered their scattered wreck together, and, after a system of operations pursued with consummate
policy and daring, have succeeded in overturning the capital, and establishing their sway over the country; — that all
this should have been so effected by a mere handful of indigent adventurers, is in fact little short of the miraculous,
too startling for the probabilities demanded by fiction, and without a parallel in the pages of history.

Yet this must not be understood too literally; for it would be unjust to the Aztecs themselves, at least to their
military prowess, to regard the Conquest as directly achieved by the Spaniards alone. The Indian empire was in a manner
conquered by Indians. The Aztec monarchy fell by the hands of its own subjects, under the direction of European
sagacity and science. Had it been united, it might have bidden defiance to the invaders. As it was, the capital was
dissevered from the rest of the country; and the bolt, which might have passed off comparatively harmless, had the
empire been cemented by a common principle of loyalty and patriotism, now found its way into every crack and crevice of
the ill-compacted fabric, and buried it in its own ruins. Its fate may serve as a striking proof, that a government,
which does not rest on the sympathies of its subjects, cannot long abide; that human institutions, when not connected
with human prosperity and progress, must fall, if not before the increasing light of civilisation, by the hand of
violence; by violence from within, if not from without. And who shall lament their fall?